Adeleine's Dream Land
by SoleSnatcher
Summary: In a Dream Land where Kirby was removed from the equation before anyone could remember him as a hero, someone else needs to step up to the plate. Someone who'll have to try her darndest to live up to the myths and legends about the hero, and maybe learn something about herself along the way. An artistic license-laden retelling of the Kirby series starring Ado. Rated T to be safe.
1. Prologue

He'd awoken in the cell, without a shred of memory of how he'd managed to get himself trapped.

It wasn't a "cell," per se, he supposed, as the "bars" were some sort of fleshy substance, slathered in a dried, sticky red substance that he hoped wasn't what he thought it was, as though he had been engulfed and swallowed by a monstrous creature. Perhaps he had, he thought. Mother had told him that she would always keep him safe, Father had whispered his endless reassurances, but they meant nothing now. He knew full well that he would most likely never see Mother and Father again.

Indeed, he was alone in his fleshy prison, unless you counted the Eye. He'd decided what seemed like months ago to call it that, as he could think of no better name. At first, he'd thought it to be the beating heart of the creature that had swallowed him. It would writhe and convulse with endless twisting veins of blood, but there was something more to its movements. It was when he was asleep that the Eye revealed itself to him.

And oh, what a terrible creature the Eye was! When sleep had finally claimed him for what seemed like the millionth time, he was awoken to a ghastly peeling sound that made him cringe in terror. The heart was beating, writhing, as it always did, but layers of its red, fleshy veins had peeled away. More veins intersected in the inky abyss of black within, but behind the veins was an unmistakable shape - a red, glaring, eye. The Eye was studying him, coldly, as though deliberating what best to serve him with when it ate him for a second time. Of course, it noticed as soon as his two eyes opened (he was fairly certain he had two, wasn't he?) and the heart's veins began to twist back into place, to block the inky black void within, to block his view of the Eye.

He screamed without words, for he had never learned to speak the beautiful language that Mother and Father had sung to him in, had lulled him to sleep in… but his scream was useless. The heart began beating once more, but in a new rhythm. He sensed a deliberation in its motions now that he had learned its true nature. The Eye had swallowed him, and he did not know its purpose.

A chill went through his globular body, as he realized that perhaps he would soon find out.

* * *

Mom always said I was special. So did yours.

At least I hope she did. If yours didn't, then I'm really sorry. Someone screwed up and matched you with the wrong childhood. Happens to the best of us. Because everyone deserves to have a mother who they can hear that from.

And if you didn't grow up with a mother, or never were able to know her? I can't begin to imagine what that must have been like. But you can take comfort in the fact that she existed, she gave birth to you, and she (hopefully) knew and hoped to convey how special you are.

And, you know what? Everyone's special. Sure, not all of us are prodigies in a field, or fantastic athletes, or heroes, but everyone's special to someone.

I don't think I've known anyone who understands that better than a mom.

"Adeleine," she would tell me, "you are destined for so much more than this dreary life we live. You are a wonderful young girl and you will go on to do wonderful things in this world."

And I would smile. Because even though neither her nor I had any future, she had me, and as far as I can tell parenthood seems to be an amazing blinder to the truth. Even as I knew her words would never bear fruit, they weren't empty. She truly believed in me; she believed in my future.

Mom was a musician, and to me, there was nothing more beautiful than hearing her sing as she strummed her guitar. Her songs would take me far away from the dreary alleyway we lived in, where we shared our living quarters with rats and mice, to a world where dreams could come true, to a world where a little homeless girl and her mom could have a future.

The guitar was all she had. We lived off the little scraps of food and coins that kind strangers would leave in a little tin cup as thanks for the music Mom gave them. It wasn't often that strangers were kind enough - most would turn up their nose after they listened to my mother's music, if they listened at all - but Mom made it work. I only learned later how exactly she was doing it.

I always wondered where the strangers were coming from, and where they were going. They always wore clothes much fancier than ours, and walked with a deliberation that suggested they knew exactly where they were going - not just that day, but in life.

"Dry your eyes, Adeleine," she would tell me. "One day, you are going to have a life just like them." I might have been seven by then, old enough to know better. "You will live indoors, and have many people who love you, and all the food you can eat. And I will be so proud of you." And I would still smile, but sadly and wistfully. Because, much as I'd jumped at her encouragement early in life, I was beginning to see how impossible it would be.

Other than my mom's music, one of the few things that brought me joy in life was art. It was something I'd stumbled upon by accident, when a group of rowdy boys a few years older than me charged through the alley - they'd left behind a small, whittled-down piece of sidewalk chalk. Mom was asleep at the time, but I eagerly picked it up and began drawing a picture of her. I couldn't wait to show her - she'd be so excited!

A few hours later, Mom woke up, and I scampered over with my tiny little kid feet.

"Mommy! Come look what I drew!" At first, she was confused, but then saw the chalk in my hands and gave a wrinkly smile. And then she glanced over at my chalk drawing, and then her eyes widened in an expression I hadn't thought possible from her.

"Adeleine… You are amazingly talented, my girl!" she told me. I smiled again, for I knew it was another piece of flattery that she, as a mother, truly meant. But something about it seemed different this time. Was my drawing really that good? Sure, I'd paid close attention to the shading, and the details of the face, and the wrinkles, and the hair, and, like, everything. But that doesn't make the drawing that _good_ , right?

Apparently it did. Mom, in her well-meaning but embarrassing way, proceeded to tell all of the strangers who passed by our little corner about my drawing on the ground.

"Come look what my little Adeleine has drawn!" she would tell them. They would roll their eyes upon seeing how little I was, step into the alley… and as soon as they laid eyes on my drawing, their jaws would drop in an expression somewhere between awe and fright.

"You are so talented, it is as though your drawing comes to life." one elderly gentleman told me before hurrying along to who-knows-where. That day, our little tin bucket seemed to have more coins and food scraps in it than we'd normally get in a year.

I was, obviously, encouraged to continue. That night, as Mom strummed her guitar, I took the rest of the chalk and drew a mural - a mural of the feelings that her music awoke in my heart. I drew a world of dreams, where a little girl and her mother could live in prosperity. I drew a shining castle on a hill, owned by a kindly king who was a fair and just ruler. I drew a forest, a mountain, a battleship piloted by a guardian of the kingdom… I was carried away as I usually was by Mom's music, but rather than manifest it into tears, I manifested it into the drawing that I was making. Though I only had one color, I imagined the world of dreams coming to life in rich hues, every color of the rainbow.

The next day, strangers were even more blown away. I received so much doting attention - apparently I had suddenly become "cute" and "precious" overnight, even though just a few days ago I was just another homeless child that no one would look twice at. Our bucket continued to overflow with gifts from well-wishers. Our bellies were full that night.

My chalk, however, had run its course. "Mommy?" I asked. "What's going to happen now?"

Mom looked into my eyes. "Now you, my sweet Adeleine, will hone this talent of yours. You are a star, and you will get the chance to shine."

I didn't realize what she'd meant by that until a few days later when she woke me up out of my tattered little blanket with a surprise. "Happy birthday, my precious daughter!" I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. I knew what they were, but birthdays weren't something that we usually celebrated. It was just another reminder of our stature in life.

But Mom had a surprise this year. She had went out and bought a beautiful set of paints, massive jars full of them, in all the colors of the rainbow and then some. A fine brush accompanied it, along with more paper than I had ever handled in my life. I can swear my jaw dropped to the floor.

"But Mommy… how did you get the money for all of this?"

She just smiled sadly and did not answer. My seven-year-old self, meanwhile, began to play with my new toys, began to pour my heart into new creations. No longer would the kingdom I painted be crudely rendered on chalk. It would be given justice on paper.

Unfortunately, I only learned the answer to my questions a few nights later. Mom had been giving me the lion's share of the food for some time now, and buying the set of paints took far too much out of her. She had lost her ability to fight the hunger that threatened to consume both of us. She had, in her own noble way, sacrificed herself for my own future.

She was incredibly good at concealing her own ailment until the awful day I awoke to find her lying on the ground, eyes glassy. Her chest didn't rise and fall, she didn't blink… She was dead. I shook her corpse, tears consuming my sight, praying that it was all just a mistake, a dream. It wasn't fair!

At first, I was mad at her. Mad at her for putting myself over her. If only I'd known she was hurting so much to give me this! I could have made her return the paints, and we could have dined comfortably the next few nights.

Then the realization sunk in that I would never see her again, and my sorrow became overwhelming. But rather than channel my sweeping emotions into tears, I channeled it into the kingdom. Dark clouds and rain loomed over the kingdom of dreams - if a little girl couldn't have her mom, how can a perfect, picturesque kingdom exist? My paintings quickly turned melancholy.

Meanwhile, when Mom's body started to smell, I hid as strangers came to take her away. I didn't want to be taken away too. This was all I'd ever known.

I continued to draw, to paint, to create life. It was all I had. The tin bucket continued to fill itself with coins and gifts, little by little, and slowly but surely I got by. A little girl, all alone in the world, drew more sympathy than a little girl and her mother.

I would thank them, I would smile, but inwardly I would frown. Because what was the point? I was never going to get anywhere with this. I would stay on this street corner, with only the paint to keep me company, until even that ran dry and I faded into the concrete like my mom had before me.

At least that's what I thought. Until someone, a few days after the day I turned twelve, bought the building in front of the alley.

At first I had no idea what this meant for me. Sure, I'd heard some more hubbub coming from the other side of the building, but I didn't really understand how it connected to me. Until I saw a gruff man standing over me later that day.

"Who are you, and what are you doing on my property?" he asked. His eyes did not twinkle like my mother's had. They glared, with all the kindness of a rock. He had a mustache that twisted down, mirroring the disapproving frown he had for any poor little girls who happened to step on property he'd bought. He wore a plaid two-piece suit that abhorred any bright colors, instead opting for brown and grey.

"I don't understand." I told him. "I've been here for years since my mother died, painting." I grabbed some of my art to show him, hoping he'd sympathize, but rather than do so, he grabbed my arm gruffly.

"Panhandling is more like it. This is my property, kid." He exhaled in my face, and I got a nasty whiff of alcohol. "I'm giving you twenty-four hours to get your ugly little face off the face of my world before I call the police and _they_ take you away." He laughed at his own little "joke."

"And what will they do to me? Will I find a nice home?" I asked him. God, I was so naive back then.

That prompted the man to let out a mighty guffaw. "They'll lock you away, kid, where no one can find you again. If you don't get the hell off my property, no one will love you, no one will care about you, and you'll rot away in an empty jail cell for the rest of your short, miserable life!" He was spitting in my face. I cringed away from him.

"You said twenty-four hours." I crossed my arms. "I need time to get my stuff together. I'll be gone by tomorrow, and you can open your, uh…"

"Club." he finished. "And good. If I wake up tomorrow and see you or any of your idiotic drawings here, I'm going to get rid of you for good." He flashed me a toothy smile that didn't reach his eyes before re-entering "his" building, that he was going to turn into a club for who-knows-what.

I collapsed on the asphalt. What was I going to do?

* * *

Many days and nights later, his own heroism gave up on him.

At least he liked to imagine that days and nights were still passing, even if he was stuck in his mysterious prison with only an eye that watched him when he wasn't looking. All he had to go off of, however, were the times he collapsed because he just couldn't stay awake anymore.

Every time he woke up, however, he felt more tired, more drained. He wondered if the Eye was sapping something from him, draining him of his powers, whatever those might be.

One "night" while he slept, a pink, glowing heart left his body, soundless, without alerting him to its plight. Glowing with a light that pierced the darkness of the prison, it flitted around for a moment before squeezing through the cage, much more effectively than his body could in any of his halfhearted attempts to escape his prison.

Unfortunately, this drew the attention of the Eye. As the heart began to fly up and out of the fleshy prison to the continued lack of suspicion (or consciousness) of the body it had just emerged from, the Eye, too, peeled itself back from the heart that surrounded it. It ripped and tore at itself, and eventually popped out of its heart in a bloody mess. _This_ woke him up, even if his heart had not.

The Eye's true form was truly horrifying. It was a small Eye, covered and oozing in blood from the heart, surrounded with a cloud of darkness. The cloud extended into multiple black, oozing tendrils that connected to its body. Using its dark tendrils to propel itself, it dashed after the pink heart, seemingly hoping to grab it.

He screamed wordlessly, an encouragement to the heart to leave, to escape, to save itself. He wondered if the heart was his own, but dismissed the thought. He still felt a heartbeat in his own body, right? That didn't make any sense.

Nevertheless, the heart had drawn the attention of the Eye, and it was responding with its full power. Its tendrils split away, forming smaller clouds of darkness each with their own Eyes. A powerful, dark hole opened from each of them, attempting to suck the heart in.

The heart struggled, shaking a bit with the power of the Eyes' powerful suction. He continued to screech at it, to encourage it to escape, to break free. He screamed louder, louder, louder! And this seemed to empower the heart. It broke free of the Eyes' suction and blasted its way upwards, away from the Eye's reach. It withdrew its tendrils into itself, narrowing its single red eye. The Eye then turned towards him.

A chill ran down his spine. This couldn't end well.

* * *

Fast-forward to a few hours later. I was lying in the same spot, pondering the same question. I was a twelve-year-old girl with some good paintings, sure, but I didn't have a home, no family to speak of, and no one to turn to. I had a few hours to vacate the premises or the police would be called to lock me away.

I'd packed all my paints and my brush, but what good was that going to do? I had nowhere to take them.

Night had fallen, and I stared up at the cosmos. As diluted by light pollution as it was, maybe it would have an answer. I shook my head, laughing sadly.

"Think, Adeleine, think… How are you going to-"

 _BOOM_

Something, falling very quickly, had just landed right in this alleyway. A chunk of asphalt struck me on the shoulder. I wondered quickly if it was a meteorite. My suspicions seemed to be confirmed when I headed over to the crash site and found a small crater, as though whatever fell had fallen from space.

"What is that?" I breathed, staring at it. It wasn't a meteorite after all. It was glowing with a strange color - was it _pink?_ \- and radiating a warmth that I just couldn't describe.

Tentatively, I reached out and picked it up. It was weightless, almost, with the shape of a cartoon heart. Something about it felt so _right_ , so _perfect_ , that all of my worries melted away as soon as I held it. For that moment I wasn't weighted down by the melancholy that had covered my heart with the death of my mother, had covered the world of dreams that I painted. For a moment I thought of the shining castle on a hill, the forest, the mountain.

I was so absorbed in those sudden, overwhelming feelings of radiant positivity that I didn't notice the heart pulling my hands closer to my chest. I didn't notice it fade into my essence, didn't notice its pink aura surrounding me before fading _into_ me, didn't notice the world around me becoming muted…

I didn't notice everything vanish.

At least before it was too late to stop it from happening.


	2. Chapter 1: On Sentience

Within an instant, I was picked up by some invisible force and carried away. I could only stare with wide-eyed incredulity as the bustling streets and dingy alley around me transformed into bursting, blurred lines of color and light that begun to constantly zoom backwards, away from me. My legs hung limply away from my body - I didn't seem to be constrained by gravity, and yet I couldn't seem to move. I stared down at my hands and chest, where I was holding the strange, heart-shaped object moments before. It was gone - my hands were gripping empty air out of instinct.. However, in its place, a pink glow began to emanate from… where my heart would be, I guess. It slowly faded as I continued along… wherever I was. I didn't really know.

I registered that the cheap, tattered grocery bag containing my art supplies was still slung around my shoulder, laughing bitterly at the realization.

 _Good,_ I couldn't help but think, _at least I'll be able to paint until whatever drug I accidentally inhaled wears off and I end up locked away._ There was no other explanation for what I was experiencing. Even in my perceived inebriated state, I took stock of where I was previously, formulating a plan for how I'm going to get out of the alley and figuring out which way to run - a decision that I decided would determine the rest of my life. Where would I go? Who would I meet? Would I have a shot at an actual _life_?

Meanwhile, the seizure-inducing tunnel I seemed to be trapped in was coming to a stop. A bright, five-pointed star was up ahead, with rainbow-colored swirls surrounding it - it was rapidly getting bigger as I realized that, no, _I_ was getting _closer_ to it. The brightly-colored swirls and lines began to shorten, and soon I realized I was staring at constellations, planets, _stars_. Before I got the chance to piece together the situation, the gigantic, five-pointed star started growing further, getting larger, and larger, until I realized once again that it wasn't getting larger after all.

I was falling.

I gripped my bag of art supplies. I would _not_ lose them.

As I fell, the yellow "star" texture began to separate into these indescribably beautiful rolling hills, mountains, and oceans. It was the most beautiful, picturesque landscape I had ever seen. I'd go all show-don't-tell on you, but really I only saw these for a split second.

My last thought before everything went black was that this landscape, beautiful as it was, looked somehow familiar.

* * *

"Hahahaha!" King Dedede let out a great big belly laugh. "This show is really the best. I ain't gonna be movin' from this spot for a good, long while. Bandana!"

This last apparent non sequitur was shouted as he craned his neck behind his chair, taking apparent effort and strain to do so. King Dedede obviously didn't get a lot of exercise. He was a very odd creature, something of a cross between a humanoid and a large, flightless bird. Even if he'd wanted to take up jogging, his tiny, stubby legs would have been constrained by his massive, bulbous belly. Dedede wore a long, flowing red robe, and its back draped over the bottom of the elegant throne he reclined on. His hat, like his robe, was trimmed with white fabric, but also had a bauble on top that made the hat vaguely reminiscent of Santa Claus', though anyone who thought that Dedede would be as kindly or generous as Santa Claus because of his hat and bulging belly would be sadly mistaken.

His beak, meanwhile, was a large, engorged thing, twisting into a smirk that showed off his blunt, but massive, set of chompers. However, it quickly turned into a menacing frown.

"Bandana? Get your Waddle Dee butt out here! I need a refill on my soda!" he shouted to no immediate response. However, a few seconds later, a squeal of panic preceded two waddling feet dashing into the elegant throne room.

"Sorry! Sorry, your majesty! I couldn't hear you all the way from the kitchen!" The voice in question belonged to a small, orange and decidedly globular creature with tiny feet, two beady eyes and no visible mouth. He wore a blue bandana on top of his head. He'd been given this dubious honor when he'd been appointed as Dedede's personal butler. Now Dedede could just shout "Bandana" instead of "Waddle Dee," which would send every one of his servants running to his aid. This particular servant, however, was panting, doubling over with fatigue from running to accommodate Dedede's sudden whim. It didn't help that he was carrying a massive cup of soda that was larger than himself, but of perfect size for the King and his appetite.

Dedede grabbed the soda from Bandana with a disapproving grunt. "Took ya long enough."

Bandana, freed from his carbonated burden, bowed to his king. "I truly am sorry, your Majesty. There was an awful spill in the kitchen, and it was hard for me to navigate without helping to clean it up."

Dedede was unamused. "Yeah, yeah. That ain't your problem. Leave it to the kitchen staff. Your duties are to attend to me, you little orange Nruff dropping!" he shouted. "Now get me somethin' to eat. I'm starved!"

Bandana recoiled, not from the insult, but from Dedede's spittle, raining down on the unlucky Waddle Dee from Dedede's rants. He was fiercely loyal, as so many Waddle Dees are, and would never take an insult of Dedede's to heart.

 _He doesn't mean it,_ Bandana convinced himself as he had so many times before. Dedede, sated by the beverage, turned back to his sitcom. Bandana's task was done, so he turned to quietly slip out before Dedede came up with another asinine whim for him to attend to beyond his food order. He rolled his eyes at the laugh track, personally not sharing Dedede's taste in television. (Though he'd never be so bold as to tell the King that.)

"I assume we're having a regular party, then? My, I hope I'm not crashing it." The Waddle Dee turned sharply around. The voice was coming out of Dedede's extensive stereo system, but it was far too sharp and precise to be a part of the King's brainless sitcoms. It was deep, with a hint of a foreign accent to it - this was the type of person who took pride in how well they rolled their "r" syllables.

Bandana turned around to stare at the screen and took notice of what was on it. Dedede's sitcom had been replaced with what looked like a fearsome, metallic mask. Two glowing eyes emerged from a "V" shaped hole in its center. Beyond the mask's rounded edges, the camera on the other end did not seem to capture what sort of creature was on it.

 _With a mask like that,_ the servant supposed, _he must be quite large and fearsome._ But not too fearsome, it seemed, for King Dedede, who looked positively annoyed and bemused rather than intimidated.

"Whaddya want, Meta Knight?" Dedede's annoyed expression turned to a look of confusion. "And how'd ya even get on my TV, anyway? This ain't even connected to the outside!"

The stranger's - Meta Knight's? - eyes flashed. "My methods are not important, Dedede." he said. "I come with a warning."

"Nobody tries to threaten me!" Dedede protested, banging his gloved hand against his throne's armrest. "Bandana, you still there? Get this masked moron off my screen before I come through it and break his face!"

Bandana decided that now would be a good time to not be "still there", and dashed off to the kitchen to get a meal ready for the King.

"I recommend you take great caution with any decision you make, Dedede." Meta Knight continued.

"And why's that?" Dedede snarled. "Don't you try to incriminate me, you blue bugger!"

Meta Knight sighed dramatically. "The word is 'intimidate,' Dedede. I see your habit of unfortunate malapropisms has not faded with time."

"Whadda what?" Dedede shouted, now annoyed, but Meta Knight handwaved it with an eye roll.

"I suggest you calm down, your 'majesty.' I simply wish to warn you for the sake of your own safety." Dedede calmed down a little, reassured. "Do nothing that would anger any of your loyal populace over these coming weeks."

Dedede's calm turned into anger over Meta Knight's nonchalant attitude. "Nobody tries to odor me around! I do whatever I want, and my subjects just gotta deal with it!"

"We were friends once, Dedede. I do not care about what you do with these... people - I am only concerned with your resulting safety." Meta Knight told him. "The ancient book is clear on this - the fabled Starlight Hero is to arrive in Dream Land, and will stage a rebellion on the overlord due to a tyrannical order of his."

"Don't'cha call me no overboard! The only hero 'round here is me! Didn't ya say a long time ago the ancient book was just some silly fairy tale, anyway?" Dedede asked.

"Recent events have forced me to… reconsider my position." Meta Knight admitted. "And that means that Planet Popstar is in great danger even as we speak."

"I thought a _hero_ was supposed to arrive."

Meta Knight's mask moved up and down on the screen. It took Dedede a second to realize he was nodding. "He is. A hero, pure of heart and strong of soul. The only thing that can stop the oncoming galactic crisis."

"Well, what if I told ya that I thought your mumbo-jumbo was just a buncha baloney?" Dedede demanded.

Meta Knight's eyes, previously a harsh yellow, briefly turned grey as he angled his mask down, away from the camera. "Then we have truly gone our separate ways. I only call to warn you, Dedede. Take heed of a round, pink warrior approaching your castle. He may be your demise."

The television screen abruptly went dark. A frustrated Dedede grabbed the remote and frantically started pressing buttons on it.

"How do I turn this damned thing back on?!"

"Your Majesty?" Bandana's nervous voice wavered as the King craned his neck to take notice of his empty hands that did _not_ contain any food.

"Didja forget what I told you to do, Bandana? Hop to it!"

Bandana was visibly shaking. "That's just it, King Dedede. The Waddle Dees forgot to adjust for your, ahem, fast metabolism when grocery shopping this morning. We're all out. I'm sure we could pick some up later if you-" Dedede waved his suggestion away.

"That's the third time this happened this week! I don't need more excuses, you little freak!"  
"I'm sure we could do better given another chance-"

"The only way my belly won't go hungry again is if we make a pre-empty strike! I ain't countin' on you little brainless Waddle Dees for gettin' anything right anymore!"

The servant quavered. "Your Majesty, you don't mean…"

Dedede nodded. Meta Knight's warning - "Do nothing that would anger any of your loyal populace over these coming weeks" - lingered in his mind, but he dismissed it. "That's right. I want you lot to debilitate me _all_ the food in Dream Land."

"You mean 'deliver,' right-"

"JUST DO IT!"

* * *

"It could be an alien." A wavering voice wondered. I couldn't place it, but it sounded masculine yet high-pitched.

"Be nice, Kine." a softer, deeper voice instructed the first voice. I tried to open my eyes, but it was as though I was trying to move through molasses.

"What kind of alien would come _here_?" a third voice wondered. "Whispy's Woods is one of the most backwater place there is. Heck, I'd rule out tourists too." This voice was somewhat nasal, but it also carried a sense of a self-serving smugness that made me wonder just how funny he found his own joke.

"Quiet, Rick, Kine!" A fourth, sharp - and still masculine - voice said before correcting itself. "...Marx, you too. I think she's waking up!"

Indeed, my continued struggle to open my eyes was finally making progress. The blackness that had enshrouded me ever since my… trip was finally fading into strange shapes, which eventually took sharper and more solid forms.

Standing over me were three vaguely animalistic creatures, with a fourth off to the side, lying in a pool of… water, I guess?

The second one who had spoken - Rick? - looked like a large, orange hamster. He had sort of a tabby thing going on with his fur, between the color scheme and the stripes, and he was staring at me with massive, adorable hamster eyes and a somewhat knowing smile. Among the four, he was the only one who didn't look either bewildered or angry, so he stood out to me immediately.

The sharper voice that had spoken before belonged to some sort of bird. His body shape resembled an owl, but he had large, angular eyes more reminiscent of a bird of prey. His feathers, meanwhile, had a dazzling purple color that almost made me think he was some sort of tropical variety - but then again we're dealing with _giant, talking, probably drug-induced birds._

The guy who'd made the initial "alien" comment turned out to be a fish. A talking fish - looked kind of like a carp, I guess - with blue scales and large, yellow fins and lips. Like _he's_ one to talk. He looked kind of bewildered by the whole situation. I didn't blame him. I'd be bewildered too if I was a large talking fish.

It was the final one, the guy I described as sort of smug-sounding, that stood out to me the most. He didn't stand out as any sort of particular animal. He didn't look like much of anything to me, except maybe just… well, a _thing._ He was vaguely marshmallow-shaped, with a pinkish-lavender tint to his skin. He had large eyes that sparkled as though he'd seen something shiny to steal, and a wide, fanged grin. He completely lacked arms or any sort of appendage other than his feet - on which, I note, he wore large, clownish-looking boots - and to top it all off, he wore a large red and blue jester hat adorned with various white shapes.

He was the first to speak to me as soon as I opened my eyes and made it clear that I'd rejoined the world of the living. "Hey, hey, hey!"

I sat up groggily. I'd taken stock of the entire situation, but I hadn't _really_ process it. At best, it was like one of those weird dreams that you don't know are a dream yet but you still don't really question the going-ons of it.

"Who are you guys?" I asked warily, eyes darting between the weird foursome.

"Glad you asked!" Marx - the jester-looking guy, I recalled, the bird had mentioned his name - said with a mischievous look, his eyes at half-lid and his mouth in a fanged smirk. "We're the fantastic four. I'm the brains, Coo's the speed, Rick's the brawn, and Kine's affectionately called 'Captain Useless.'"

I took stock of their names, and tried to commit them to memory. Marx, Rick, Coo, Kine. Marx, Rick, Coo, Kine.

"Come off it, Marx." Rick said as kindly as someone can say a phrase like "come off it." "We aren't part of a superhero team, and even if we were, there isn't much to defend in Dream Land anyway. Either way, we would include Kine for his many natural talents if we _did_ form one." Just as Marx shot Rick an incredulous look, I tried to rewind Rick's statements a bit. Did he say we were in "Dream Land?"

"Hold on, where exactly are we?" I asked them. It occured to me that I hadn't really looked around myself, and quickly did so. We were in a forest - and man, I know I'm biased because I lived in a dingy alley in a metropolitan area - but _gosh_ I was immediately in love. Birds - smaller and more realistic than Coo, at least - were singing gleefully in the trees, which were filled with life. Bright, delicious-looking red apples hung from the trees, just waiting for someone to take a huge bite from them. Smaller forms of wildlife, most of which I'd never seen in my small, urban scope of existence, hopped around in the grasses. A decently-sized stream led away from the clearing we were currently in - this was where Kine was lazing about. The entire place was so colorful and perfect, filled with so many shades of red and green. Even the _browns_ were beautiful.

"Listen, I'd love to chat, but it's our turn now." Marx said, still grinning that grin of his. Having sat up, I noticed that he was balancing on a large inflatable ball that alternated between white and various colors of the rainbow. "Strange girl of completely unrecognized species falls from the sky? You're lucky that I got here before the media did!"

" _We_ got here, more like." Coo muttered. "Darned trickster takes credit for everything." Apparently unsatisfied with the direction the conversation was taking, he unfurled his wings and flew gracefully up to perch on a nearby tree.

"I _called_ you guys over here because I thought you could help. I didn't know what to do when I saw her lying there." Marx admitted. "It's not every day that a _girl falls out of the sky._ It sounds like something from a bad B-movie."

"So _are_ you an alien?" Kine, who I'd sort of forgotten about, asked curiously. I blinked at the surrounding creatures, the environment I was in, and the strange trip - what I'd previously deduced was another kind of trip entirely - I'd taken to get there.

"I don't know, maybe." I looked down, suddenly self-conscious. I was wearing some ripped jeans and a tattered green smock - basically, just stuff I'd managed to scavenge from dumpsters. My mousy black hair stuck up in all the wrong places, and had some interesting length variation going on - both from my previous living arrangements and my occasional haircut I would attempt to haphazardly give myself. The ripped grocery bag slung around my shoulder didn't exactly help sell matters. At least they didn't assume I was a boy, like some people had done.

"That's so cool! What's your home planet called?" Kine said, taking it all in stride. I smiled weakly.

"Earth. Ever heard of it?" I snapped.

Rick smiled apologetically. "Sorry, mate, but you must be a long way from home. I've never even heard of an 'Earth.'"

I stared at Rick desperately before rattling off almost every planet name I knew. He just stared at me.

"Mars? Venus? Mercury? Saturn? Jupiter?"

Rick just shrugged, clearly pitying my situation. Before he could say something, however, I discovered that my rattling off of planets had been harmonized.

"...Misteen, Floria, Neostar, Aquastar, Earthfall…" Marx's voice trailed off as he turned to look at me, biting his own lip. It was then that I realized just how far from my familiar alley I was. It was irrational, I know - I had nothing to go back to, especially not _now._

That didn't prevent me from bursting into tears in front of everyone. _You_ would have too. Anyone would have when presented with a situation as foreign as this. I heard a snicker from the treetops, but I ignored it. Coo wasn't exactly the most likeable person… bird… thing… and I was just going to have to live with that. I was too busy crying my eyes out into my smock.

I felt an awkward, furry pat on my shoulder. "Hey, mate. It's… it's okay. We'll get you home."

"It's… it's not that…" I sobbed into my smock.

"Then what is it?" asked Kine. I knew he was trying to be nice in his own oblivious way, but it just made me cry harder.

"Hey. Alien. Girl. What'd you say your name was?" Marx asked.

I hadn't, actually. "Adeleine." I looked up, knowing full well my eyes were probably raw-red by now.

"Adeleine." Marx seemed to be test-driving it uncertainly, as though he'd only had to contend with one-syllable names before. He probably had. "I like it. Has a ring to it. Well, tell you what, Adeleine - would it cheer you up to accompany the Fantastic Four on a picnic? You haven't _lived_ until you taste Whispy Apples. They only grow right here in this forest."

Somehow, this was more reassurance than Rick's reassurances. Probably because I knew I had very little to go back to. I smiled weakly at him. "I'd like that. Thanks."

* * *

"He told you to do _what?_ "

This wasn't Captain Doo's first day on the job. Despite being the "lieutenant commander" of the "Waddle Dee armed forces," he had never seen combat, unless you counted combatting King Dedede's underwear in the laundry room. The castle had spears and bows, but it wasn't like they were ever going to _use_ them. Dream Land was far too peaceful for anyone to take up arms against anyone else.

But Captain Doo realized that that was effectively what the bandana-wearing Waddle Dee, who claimed to be relaying an order from the King himself, was asking him to do. He wasn't dumb. Taking every scrap of food away from the citizens of Dream Land, most of whom likely weren't even aware they _had_ a king they needed to obey, would easily lead to rebellion and anarchy - and the necessity of armed combat.

Bandana, meanwhile, stared up into the glaring single eye of his boss. As with all Waddle Doos, he was a darker orange with his sole defining feature being his massive eye - and his large dual eyelashes.

"That's what I thought at first, sir! The King's gone off the deep end!" Bandana was quivering; he was easily excited, and this was an especially nerve-wracking situation for him.

"Recruit, you're implying the King's pool even has a shallow end," Captain Doo said in his gravelly voice, rolling his singular eye before sighing. "As much as I hate to admit it, though, he's our King. If what you said rings true, there isn't much we can do but carry out this order to the best of our ability."

He turned to the still-shaking Bandana. "Head down to the armory, and grab yourself a spear. Bring out a cart of as many spears, bows and arrows as possible. I'm heading to the throne room to check out your story."

"I swear, sir, I'm telling the truth!" the Waddle Dee squeaked.

"You don't seem like the type of kid who'd even be capable of lying, much less actually lie. But it _is_ kind of a tall order unless I hear it from the King's mouth. Just do what I told you - and stand up straight."

Bandana obliged on the latter, shouting "yes, sir!" before dashing off to do the former. He was in the middle of his spear-gathering quest - there weren't enough spears in the armory, it looked like some of his comrades would have to make do with umbrellas instead - when Captain Doo returned, his eye wider than any Waddle Dee had seen it. He wasn't as visibly anxious as Bandana, but it was clear his conversation with Dedede had shaken him. Clearly, a part of him had held on to the idea that the recruit was lying.

"Pass those on to the other Waddle Dees." he said gruffly, gesturing to the wheelbarrow that Bandana had packed with weapons. "We're going out to steal some food."

* * *

In the end, the "Fantastic Four" accompanying me on the picnic turned out to be the Terrific Two - Coo had curtly declined Marx's offer, and Kine didn't eat apples. Or have picnics. Or do a lot of things, seeing as he was a fish.

Eventually, we settled on grassy clearing a half-mile or so away. The canopy of trees broke above us, allowing me to see the brilliant blue sky and the blazing sun - even _that_ looked like something from a dreamscape, coming from a big, smoggy city. We'd picked several large, ripe apples on the way, and my stomach was already rumbling just thinking about biting into them. I'd tasted apples before, from scraps people threw away, but nothing like _this_. I hadn't even tasted them yet and I already knew that biting into one would be heaven.

When we arrived in the clearing, I finally took my first delicious bite. And then another; I just couldn't stop. Mere words cannot describe how incredible these apples were. Before I knew it, I had eaten an entire fruit, minus the core, without even thinking about it.

"This. Is. INCREDIBLE!" I squealed. Marx grinned, not as mischievously this time; he looked genuinely glad to see me finally happy. Rick, meanwhile, nodded sagely.

"You can thank the Guardian of the Forest, Whispy Woods, for these gifts. Anyone who lives in Whispy's Woods is under his protection and is granted as many fruits as the forest can provide." Rick told me. I was about to raise an eyebrow at this, but Marx beat me to it.

"Don't tell me you believe in that bunk, Rick. I thought you a lot better than that." I turned to him, a little shocked at his forwardness, but he seemed to be mostly joking.

"On the contrary; Whispy himself appointed myself, Coo, and Kine to help protect this forest from any incoming invaders or dangerous wild beasts." Rick claimed. "Mate, Whispy's real."

"Yeah, it's a real tree. Massive tree, center of the forest, yada yada. That doesn't mean it's _alive_." Marx spat out his apple core - I tried not to think too hard about his apple-eating methods.

"Technically, Marx, all trees are alive." I interjected, not comfortable enough to get into a spirited debate about forest deities.

Marx grinned at me. "I see your point and I raise you this; it doesn't mean that Whispy is _sentient_."

"'To tell you the truth, I believe everything - tigers, trees, stones - are sentient in one way or another. You'd never catch me idly kicking a stone, for example.'" I quoted. Marx just looked at me in confusion.

"Where'd you hear _that_?"

I didn't know who'd said that first. "It was something that my mother quoted once or twice - I think it was a poet. God, she was an amazing woman."

"'Was?'" Rick dared. "You mean…"

"...She died when I was seven, yeah." I looked down, my face heating up a little.

"I am truly sorry for your loss, mate." he said.

"It's fine." I shrugged, trying to grin and appear nonchalant. "I was too young to remember, anyway."

That was a lie, and from what I could tell even Marx knew that it was dubious at best, judging from his expression. My face was red and the subject matter was not to my liking; thus I decided it was probably time for a subject change. Unfortunately, while racking my brain for something to talk about that wouldn't be awkward, I inadvertently rekindled the Whispy debate.

"Okay, if Whispy's sentient, then why hasn't he shown his face to me? Seems it could resolve this whole debate pretty quickly." Marx challenged.

I sighed, deciding not to get involved. While the two were debating, I pulled my art supplies out of the tattered grocery bag, placed a sheet of paper and my watercolors on the grassy ground, and started to paint. I took in the forest surrounding our clearing, and I made sure to bring each and every detail to life within my painting. My work was a little rough around the edges, I decided; inevitable when the ground is your easel.

Meanwhile, the two were still going at it. "Whispy only shows his face to those who believes, or when someone truly threatens the sanctity of the forest."

"I take offense to the implication that I haven't threatened the sanctity of the forest." Marx said in an overly-dramatic manner. I couldn't help but giggle at his theatrics.

"You're out of luck, Marx. I doubt you'll be punished by a god for being overly nice." I smirked at him, and he gave a fake gasp of offense.

"Madame Adeleine, do you imply me to be _nice_? Why, I never!" In his performance, he stepped closer to me to shake a boot fake-angrily at me; however, he was stopped when he noticed what I'd been working on during their debate.

It was a painting of the forest, sure, but I'd decided to toss in a few extra details. For the sake of irony and in stark contrast to the realistic and natural look I was going for, I had painted in Marx and Rick going at it. In a conflicting, cartoonish style, shouting out various gibberish symbols at each other that looked like something out of a comic book, their argument permeated the forest in the background in a way that kind of made a statement. I wasn't overly serious - it was fun to do something in such conflicting styles, though.

"Adeleine! _Dude!_ " Marx said. "How did you _do_ that?" I shrugged, smiling a little. It wasn't exactly new to me.

"I guess I'm just passionate. I've had a lot of time to practice." Rick, meanwhile, had waddled over to check out my art as well.

"Seriously, Adeleine. It looks nice." Marx told me.

"Thanks!"

"Mate, I'm impressed. It clearly makes a statement about the way society and civilization, and the conflicts that will naturally arise from that sort of construct, are a disruption to the natural flow of, well, nature. The irony used is perfect." Rick confirmed.

Marx went red. "That too."

We continued on, laughing and joking as friends do, for a few hours. Maybe I really could be happy here, I thought. I'd never really had any friends before, but Marx and Rick were truly people I could get along with. It was a big, scary, new world, but it wouldn't be so bad with people like them around.

I didn't really notice that apples had been disappearing from the forest around us. None of us noticed the shadows moving around among the trees; not until they showed themselves, that is.

* * *

"Hands in the air, miscreants!" The gruff voice came from behind me, so naturally I jumped before turning around. Behind me was a really creepy-looking orange creature, sort of a similar shape to Marx, with one large, beady eye and two eyelashes. In his stubby hands, he brandished a spear. "On the orders of King Dedede of Dream Land, I hereby confiscate all of your unauthorized food." Behind him were a bunch of lighter-orange creatures, these ones actually kind of cute, with their little beady eyes. All of them wielded spears, though, and I couldn't help but notice that one of them wore a bandana.

"You have a king?" I turned to ask Rick and Marx, at the same time as they asked the new arrival, with an understandable amount of incredulity, "We have a king?"

His response was to use his spear to pluck the apple I was eating right out of my hands. I recoiled, thankful he hadn't skewered _me_. "Yes, and King Dedede is very hungry. Hungry enough, in fact, that he ordered all the food in Dream Land taken to his castle."

"Mate, can't we talk this out?" Rick said. "Surely you can realize how absurd this is."

"Sir? Captain Doo?" the bandana-wearing creature asked. "Maybe we should listen to them. This forest kind of gives me the willies; stealing apples from this place isn't a good idea."

Captain Doo glared at his apparent minion. "Look, private, I've indulged you enough. We didn't steal any apples from that big tree in the center. Surely that's enough for you and your tree phobia."

"I'm not _scared_ of _trees_ , I'm just…" the bandana-wearing one protested before trailing off.

"Anyway!" Captain Doo turned back to us, seeming a bit more fed up than he had been a second ago. "Thank you for politely handing over your unauthorized food items. Your continued good citizenship as a subject to King Dedede is greatly appreciated."

I looked around for a second before realizing that the other creatures had used their spears to skewer the rest of our apples.

"Hey, those are ours!" Marx protested. "Stick your nose somewhere else!"

"Technically they're Whispy Woods', mate..." Rick muttered.

"Guys, not the time." I warned them. "Look, this forest is sacred to some people. I don't think taking apples away to give to some greedy king is a good idea. Can't we just talk this out like, you know, civilized people?"

As the creatures tossed the apples into a large sack one of them was carrying, Captain Doo shook his head. "Though the hamster brings up a good point. On the subject of Whispy Woods, I think it's time we make like a tree and leave."

"Now hold on just a second-" Marx warned, but the little creatures were surprisingly fast. Before we could do anything, they were gone.

We all stared at each other. I'm pretty sure we were all in various stages of "what the heck just happened?"

"Well…" I ventured. "Now what?"

 **Stage 1: Green Greens**


	3. Chapter 2: On Thieves & Societal Status

"Mate, I'm sorry." Rick admitted. "If I'd had any idea of what they were planning, I'd have fought them off."

"Darn right you should've." a sharp, pointed remark noted. I looked up to see Coo perched on a branch above us. "Without your help, I could barely keep them from getting to the Forest Guardian himself. "

"Nice to see you, Coo." I told him. He snorted.

"The forest guardian needs to be guarded, huh? Interesting." Marx said with a grin. "You'd think a sentient tree who guards an entire forest would be able to defend itself."

I buried my head in my hands. "Please don't get into that again."

"And now I'm still hungry," he remarked. I didn't blame him; we'd gotten so caught up in chatting, laughing and having the times of our lives that we hadn't actually eaten very much. "Who do those guys think they are?"

"You seriously weren't aware you guys had a king?" I ventured. Marx and Rick both blinked at me.

"I've never left this forest in my life." Marx admitted. "If there's some sort of king ruling over this place, it's news to me." Rick nodded in agreement.

Coo smirked. "This isn't hard, guys. King Dedede lives in that massive colorful castle a few miles away. 'Castle Lololo,' I think it was called?"

"If you guys haven't left the forest, how do you know that?" I asked.

"I'm a bird. I can fly. I've seen that castle just down the road from here - its proximity to the forest would explain why they think they own this place. It's built right by the beach - right where the Float Islands Archipelago begins." Coo remarked; Marx and Rick were nodding vaguely, though I'd guess they had no idea what Coo was talking about either. "Just because you guys don't have a life doesn't mean I can't. I'll have you know I've been up to the peak of Candy Mountain and met the legendary Dyna Blade."

Marx rolled his eyes. "I'd be impressed, but I don't know what that is."

"Case in point." Coo remarked. "This delusional royal probably just decided to collect a bunch of apples for his, I don't know, apple collection? I doubt it'd be too hard to get them back. Rick's strong, but not fast enough to keep up, and Kine's, well, Kine." He seemed to be talking to himself more than us at this point.

"So why don't you go?" Marx snapped. clearly frustrated with Coo's ego. I couldn't blame him.

"That's what I was on my way to do when I heard you guys chattering." Coo replied. "Someone's gotta step up to the reins. You guys just hang out and deal with the situation for a few hours; I'll be back with the apples. Keep an ear out; I'll hoot if I need anyone's help carrying them back."

With this curt notice, he spread his wings and flew off, leaving us bewildered.

Rick shrugged. "Sorry about him, mate. He's always kind of like this." I gave him a weak smile in return.

"It isn't your fault-" I started to say, but quickly I was interrupted by a hungry growl from my stomach, which sent Marx into a fit of giggles.

Rick smiled a little. "We'll just have to wait until Coo gets back with the food. I've known him for a long time, I'm certain he's got this in the bag." He passed a furry paw in front of his face in a massive yawn. "That said, I'm pretty tired. I'll be taking a nap if you need me." With that, he curled up in front of a larger tree, its branches noticeably stripped of apples, and fell asleep.

"Have a good one, Rick." Marx said with a smirk before turning to me, his tone hushed; was he trying not to alert Rick? "How about you and I grab a bite to eat?"

"Didn't they take all the food?" I said in confusion.

"Not all of it." he said cryptically. "Come on!" He hopped on his beach ball, somehow kicking his stubby little feet across it for a burst of speed. Having no skills like that, I dashed after him as quickly as I could - he was hard to keep up with even so.

Eventually, we arrived in a darker area of the forest where not a lot of sunlight was breaking through the dense canopy of trees. I squinted, seeking out anything that could hint at what Marx, whom I was desperately hoping I could actually trust, had planned. It looked like the spear-armed creatures had been pretty thorough; there wasn't an apple in sight. There were even areas that looked uprooted, as though edible mushrooms had been taken. The forest seemed deeply disturbed; heck, I doubted that even if Coo could bring back the food, he'd be able to put everything back where it was before. Though, I supposed, if Rick had faith in him, it would be apt to let him handle this. It's not like Marx or I would be of much help.

"Hello." A voice said behind Marx and me, and we both jumped. It was a deep, gravelly voice, not unlike the voice of the one-eyed creature who'd made off with the apples. When I turned around, however, a very different sight greeted me. The guy standing before us looked kind of like those elves you'd hear described in fairy tales. Despite looking like a wizened, aged adult, he was only about my height - mind you, I was _twelve_ \- with a blue hat with a white bauble at the end. His similarly blue shirt had a ruffled collar with comically large golden buttons running down its front, and to top off the "elvish" look both his ears and yellow shoes went up to a point at their ends. The grin on his face, however, seemed genuinely friendly.

"Hey." I ventured back before tentatively offering him a hand. He took it, shook it heartily (with a little more force than I would've liked), and then extended his hand to Marx - before doing a double take at Marx's handlessness and retracting it with a nervous laugh. Marx rolled his eyes.

"You need something or what?" Marx shot. I glared at him; did he _want_ to make enemies?

"Oh, no, just a small favor, you see." the man said. "But we haven't been properly introduced; Mr. Poppy Sr., at your service. I own a small family business around these parts."

"Family business? What do you make?" I asked of the elf, genuinely curious.

"Explosives." _What?_ When he saw Marx and me inching away, he threw his hands up as though surrendering. "Oh, no, no! It's nothing like that! We have stringent background checks on everyone who buys from us, and even then we only allow our creations to be used for fireworks and excavation, and other such nonviolent purposes. We won't sell to anybody like that unscrupulous man who calls himself a 'king.'"

Marx and I glanced at each other; the man's reassurances _were_ helpful. "An enemy of Dedede's can't be all _that_ bad." I offered.

"Ah, if only I were that courageous." He said with a sad smile. "Ever since my dear wife passed -" here he waved away my attempts to say I was sorry for his loss "- I've had to take care of all five of my sons. The Poppies Jr. are somewhat of a handful, you see, and our dear 'King's' edict has only worsened the situation. When those vicious creatures raided our cabin while we ate breakfast, my children ran off. I fear the worst; if they haven't angered the King's soldiers somehow, they have surely run off into the deepest neck of the forest, where no doubt our guardian Whispy Woods will be already upset about the travesties committed by the raiding soldiers." I shot a pre-emptive glare at Marx, not wanting him to mouth off to a kindly old elf more than he already had.

"So you want us to find them?" I ventured.

Poppy Sr. laughed, shaking his head. "I would never ask such a thing of two young children. I only ask that you keep an eye out. If you see my sons anywhere, please let them know that their father is looking for them." I nodded.

"We'll make sure to do that. And don't worry about the food thing," I added, hoping to perk him up a little. "A friend of ours - Coo - is going off to deal with Dedede right now."

"My!" Poppy Sr. exclaimed. "Do you mean to tell me that you two children are friends with one of Whispy's appointed Animal Friends?"

"Is that a big deal?" I asked Marx. He shrugged; clearly he'd already tuned out the conversation. "I only just arrived in the forest, but Marx has known Rick, Kine and Coo for a while now." Or I supposed. He'd been acting pretty familiar with them, whereas he was acting cold and distant to this kindly old man he'd just met. I'd have to have a talk with him later about that.

The old man in question, meanwhile, jumped up in surprise before grabbing both of my hands. "I am very lucky to have met you two children. Anyone who has the trust of the Animal Friends has my trust as well; once this whole situation is resolved, please feel free to stop by at any time if you need a place to hang your hat. We're somewhat crowded, but I'm sure we can make room."

"Thanks!" I told him before shooting a glare at Marx; he spat out a halfhearted "thanks" as well. We said our goodbyes and went our separate ways - Poppy Sr. wanted to be there at his cabin in the case that his children returned.

"Man, Adeleine, you are going to _freak_." Marx promised, apparently ignoring the exchange we'd just had. "Rick's brought me some of these apples before, but I'd never had them directly picked like this." I shot him a weird look - what did he mean? - before hearing some laughing and chatting that wasn't coming from Marx or myself. I looked around; all I could see besides Marx and myself was several trees. One of them, granted, was larger than most of the others, with moss and ivy covering much of its wizened bark in a way that made it stand out amongst the vast forest. _I need to paint that tree later,_ I thought to myself. It had the sort of natural beauty that I'd never been able to see in the city, and that's the sort of thing I like to have a keepsake of.

The laughing, however, was not coming from any discernible source, which is why I eventually deduced the obvious. "The treetops! Marx, I think Poppy's kids are up in the trees!"

Marx gave me a bored look. "You're still on that?"

I gave him a withering look. "Marx. _Please._ What did Poppy ever do to you?"

He shrugged, uninterested, before walking ahead of me towards the massive tree. I grabbed his hat in response. "Hey!" he reacted.

"Marx. Listen to me." I told him. "I'm glad I met you and you're a very nice person when you want to be. But you need to stop being a jerk when you don't. Even to Rick; sure, maybe his beliefs are a little, um, unbelievable." I ignored his snarky "you got that right." "But he's not hurting you in any way, heck, he's not trying to force _his_ beliefs on you. He's one of the nicest people I've met, I think he's earned a little respect for his beliefs."

Marx opened his mouth to speak, but I wasn't done. "No, Marx. Rick didn't antagonize you - he's one of the nicest people I've known - and neither did Poppy. Heck, Poppy's an old man who needs help, and you were nothing but a jerk to him! You need to stop acting like this to people. I'm sure you're not such a jerk, but you're sure acting like one." I concluded, glaring at him. "I'm not sure whether to be flattered or worried that I'm not on your 'hate' list."

Marx muttered something under his breath - it sounded something like "it's phony applause; I bite you."

"Was that a threat?" I was more bewildered than mad - it seemed very out of character for him. Plus what I'd heard didn't make a lot of sense.

"It was nothing." Marx said, averting eye contact. "Let's just climb up." He had what looked like a hurt expression on his face; what had I possibly done to warrant that? I'd meant what I said; he wasn't a jerk, he'd just _acted_ like one.

"I'm sorry." I offered, hoping to extend an olive branch. He just sighed.

The tree in front of us was our best bet for climbing up; it had several convenient holes in its bark, perfect for reaching the treetops. I used the holes as footholds, grabbing onto an oddly branch jutting out between them. In more than few seconds, I was up in the treetops. Marx, fortunately, was right behind me; I'd been worried about him after my outburst.

Up in the trees were, as I'd predicted, a fivesome of little elf children. They were lounging in the canopy of branches, among several of the most delicious looking apples I'd ever seen. All of them were ripe and ready for the picking; however, none of the Poppies Jr. had picked one.

" _You_ do it." one of the kids was saying to one of his brothers. He had a high-pitched, childish voice; I guessed he was quite a bit younger than Marx and myself.

"No, _you_ do it." the brother replied in a similarly squeaky voice.

"I asked first."

"I asked louder."

Marx was giving me a wide-eyed grin, trying to get my attention. I ignored him - these kids really had to get home. "Guys? Your dad is looking for you."

The first Poppy Jr. turned to me. "But I don't wanna go home! There's no food back there."

I sighed. This was going to be annoying. "Then you and your brothers can grab a few apples on the way back." To lift their spirits, I continued, "One of my friends is going to deal with those soldiers. He'll have your breakfast back soon, I promise."

This seemed to lift the kids' spirits. They started chattering amongst themselves, and finally plucking apples from the branches.

Marx himself grabbed a couple. I grinned, glad this was finally going well; however, something grabbed my attention. Did that branch just… shudder?

" _This_ is what I was talking about! I knew those idiot soldiers hadn't come over here; their boss mentioned it himself!" Marx seemed very satisfied with himself. "Grab a couple, Adeleine! They'll keep us going until Coo gets back."

Something about the whole situation seemed very… off to me. "Marx… what did that soldier say about not coming over here?" I noticed that the Poppies Jr. were staring at us, noticeably worried. I definitely got the feeling that something was wrong here. The forest, previously chattering with life, had gone eerily quiet.

"Well, yeah!" He laughed. "Everyone in this forest believes there's a sentient tree that protects it. No one's going to 'steal' apples from Whispy Woods! But you and I know that's a ton of-"

The branches were really shaking now. Marx's eyes widened, and I heard several of the kids shouting and yelling. I looked around, trying to figure out what was causing it…

But before I knew it, we were all sprawled out on the forest floor. Ow. That makes two painful falls in one day.

"Who _dares…_ " I heard a deep voice remark. It wasn't deep in the same way the soldiers' leader was, or even Poppy's. It was kindly, and yet menacing. It was authoritative, yet it carried no more volume than the sound of wind whispering through the trees.

With trembling legs, I turned around to the tree I'd climbed not minutes before, praying the inevitable wasn't true.

It was.

The massive tree I had remarked on minutes before was glaring at me. The holes I'd used as footholds? Their misshapen, natural look had faded; they were wide, glaring, symmetrical. The third foothold, below the branch I'd used, was gnarled into the shape of an angry mouth. There was no question about it. My idiotic judgement, combined with my desire to get the kids home, had resulted in antagonizing Whispy Woods himself.

 **Guardian of the Forest!**

 **Whispy Woods**

His voice was deathly quiet, but it commanded a subtle authority that made all of the clamoring children instantly listen, trembling in fear. I gave them worried looks before turning back to the angry tree. Surely he wouldn't take it out on the kids, right?

"Had you simply awoken me to ask, I would have kindly offered you as many apples as I could. I would not turn away innocent children, after all." I opened my mouth to speak, but apparently he wasn't finished. "But! You, children, are anything but. You intended to clamber away and rob me - which makes you no better than the food thieves who robbed the rest of the forest I am sworn to protect."

"The Poppies were hungry, and their father was worried about them! What else was I going to do?" I argued. Marx, wide-eyed next to me, begun inching towards the Poppy children. I didn't follow. I doubted Whispy would allow us to run - and furthermore, I doubted making an enemy of an ancient tree deity would help us in the long run.

"Again, child, you could simply have asked." he stated flatly. I groaned. Why hadn't I? I _knew_ what the tree was, I should have known that Rick would be right…

It was because of Marx. I didn't want to make an idiot of myself in front of somebody who'd mocked the idea of a living tree deity - just seconds after I'd lectured _him_ about the way he'd treated Rick! And here I was, shouldering what could only be described as karma.

"You and your friends are all implicit in this act," Whispy continued as I turned around to look at Marx and the Poppies - who were attempting to get away! Immediately, several massive roots, which could be from none other than Whispy himself, shot out from the ground, forming a barrier between them and the forest beyond. "The Poppies intended to quietly rob me of my apples. Your friend plucked several apples - and _you_ encouraged it."

He was right. "I'm sorr-" I started, but immediately I was interrupted by Marx. It was almost hard to hear him over the various panicking Poppies and the sounds of the gnarled, twisting roots.

"Yeah? You would've given away apples if we asked? Well, I'll give you some advice. If you don't show that you're not just any old tree, people aren't gonna think to ask." Marx argued. I shot him a look, but he ignored it. "That stupid King took everyone's food, and people are starving, and you're hoarding some of the only food _left_ in the forest with one of the most pathetic excuses I've ever heard! What did _you_ do when those soldiers took all the other apples, huh?" I was shushing him now. He still ignored it. "What kind of guardian _are_ you?"

...Crud. He'd done it now.

The screaming, panicking Poppies went deathly quiet, and Whispy's roots, previously constantly twisting to form an impassable cage, stopped moving. It was like time stood still before he spoke next.

"It is apples you want, correct?"

Oh, good! He was going to take Marx's errant comment in stride and let bygones be bygones. (I didn't really want to consider that Marx kind of had a point…)

Whispy's branches started trembling above us. Before we could register what was happening, a massive avalanche of apples started raining down on us. Worse, these apples were _targeted_. It wasn't like he was going to kill us with apples, but judging from the bombardment of my noggin, he was going to make us feel as much pain as possible for Marx's comment. I started dashing in circles to avoid the storm of apples, but it was difficult. Over the thundering sounds of apples hitting the forest floor, I heard the Poppy children screaming, and I cursed myself for getting them into this.

"Whispy, _please_! Can't we talk this out?"

His eyes looked strangely sad for someone who was trying to bury us in apples. "Some lessons must be learned the hard way, child."

"Bugger to that!" I heard Marx shout from… where was he? I couldn't even _see_ him at this point. "Hey, Poppies!" I heard his voice go down a notch, to where I couldn't hear him. I was a little concerned, but I nevertheless turned my attention back to Whispy.

"I really do want to apologize." I pleaded. "I shouldn't have encouraged what happened." Whispy just stared at me with those sad eyes.

* * *

"Okay, guys, here's the plan." Marx told the Poppies. The children had immediately imprinted on him - a tweenage kid who seemed just the proper amount of "rebellious" and "edgy?" Heck yeah! "You guys specialize in explosives, right? Family business?"

"Yeah."

"Yep."

"Sure."

"Do you guys have any _on_ you?" Marx asked. The Poppies blinked at each other.

"Dad says we're not supposed to have any," one of the Poppy Jrs. said. "He sent you and that girl, right?"

Marx grinned mischievously. "Look, Whispy's mad at us and we're probably going to die." He figured embellishing wouldn't hurt. "If you guys have explosives that can get us out of this mess, I promise not to tell your dad," he said with a wink.

The five brothers looked at each other before the smallest of them shamefully dug into his pocket, producing a small, cartoonish bomb. "It's not very powerful… I made it myself."

Marx laughed with glee. "It doesn't _need_ to be powerful. We just need to stick it in that jerk's mouth and watch him go up in flames. How do you light this thing up?"

"You just pull the little pin; it'll go off a few seconds after you do that…" one of the brothers said. "But we can't destroy Whispy Woods! He's the forest guardian, and Dad _loves_ him! Even if we killed Whispy Woods, Dad would just be mad at us!"

Marx growled a little. "If he were here, I think he'd understand." Before the kids could argue, he grabbed the bomb from the smallest Poppy with his teeth and dashed towards the tree.

* * *

"Marx, what are you doing?!" my attempts to reason with the tree were failing. Nothing was working. And Marx stepping in? Probably not a good sign. And what was that in his teeth? Was that a _bomb_?

"Whoa, Marx! Bad idea!" He grunted at me, unable to articulate due to his mouth being occupied.

"So this was your plan." I turned back to Whispy, bewildered, as he spoke. "Distract me, then allow your friend to finish me off. To blow me up."

"What? No!" I shouted fervently.

"You had the same motives at the beginning." Whispy stated, matter-of-factly. "I doubt any difference would be made now."

"I don't want to _kill_ you!" I protested. "I mean, I agree with a lot of what Marx said-" did I just say that? "-but it's obvious a lot of people here need you!"

"...Even now you continue your facade." Whispy said. I didn't get what he meant for a second until I saw what Marx was doing. He had pulled a pin on top of the bomb with a tooth - now it was flashing both red and black. I dashed over - if he was going to dump it in Whispy's mouth…

"Why are you trying to protect that _thing_?" Marx asked me. I looked over at him, eyes wide - when I realized he had spoken. He'd spat the bomb out. Into Whispy's gaping mouth.

That's when I did one of the dumbest things I'd ever done. It would not be the last. I reached my arm into the gaping hole, feeling for the bomb. This was idiotic. If he decided to bite down… or, more likely, if Marx's bomb went off, it'd be all over. However, Whispy seemed to offer no resistence as I felt around the sharp bark on the insides of his hollow trunk before feeling something round and smooth. I immediately grabbed it, retracted my arm, and stared at the bomb I'd just picked up.

It was flashing twice as fast. Time seemed to slow down. It was going to explode any second. I had to make this shot, toss it as far as humanly possible, or I was going to blow everyone up - and if we survived, Whispy would find a way to be even more upset at us.

I winded up my arm and threw as hard as I could. It wasn't very hard - upper body strength is not my forte. The bomb flew up for a moment before it started to plummet, horizontally, towards the Poppies. They were going to get blown up!

That's when a powerful gust of wind picked it up. Had I been thinking, I would have almost thought it _Deus Ex Machina_ , a term that describes a moment in which a random occurrence saves your, and _everyone's_ , hide. But no. Turning around, I realized that Whispy was blowing out an incredibly powerful gust of wind, directly at the bomb, which hadn't touched the ground yet, and was flickering much faster - but it was light enough that it sailed along with the gust. I admit - I was shocked. I didn't factor in that he might want to _help_ me get rid of the thing. Before I knew it, the bomb was out of sight - though a few seconds later, we heard an explosion a good distance away.

I silently prayed that no one had been hurt.

The apples had stopped dropping, and Whispy was… smiling? He was still staring with those sad eyes, though.

"I admit, I misjudged you, child. Though you encouraged the thievery of my apples, you nonetheless saved my life, rather than threatening it. I am almost willing to forgive-"

"'The petty thief is imprisoned but the big thief becomes a feudal lord.'" I interrupted, fed up. Whispy blinked at me.

"What?" He said, quietly.

"Marx was right. You've been hoarding all of this food here, when residents of your forest really need it. Punish us if you must, but none of us had any way of knowing not to pick apples from a tree, especially since all of us were starving."

He opened his mouth to speak. I continued, not caring what he had to say, "Marx was wrong in trying to blow you up. And we're going to have a talk about that later." He shrank a little. "But everything he said? _That_ was right." I picked up one of the apples. "You, as a 'guardian,' shouldn't need to be protected. You should have protected the forest when those soldiers came through, taking everyone's food. But you didn't do anything. You wouldn't attack the soldiers, because they didn't bother taking _your_ apples.

"They didn't need the apples they took. They were just taking the forest's supply because a greedy king told them to. The Poppies were hungry and wanted to have breakfast before going home to their dad, and you attacked _them_." I realized, briefly, that I was starting to tear up. That didn't make sense - I wasn't sad, I was just incensed. "Marx was right." I told Whispy, looking down at my round friend. "You aren't much of a guardian at all."

"You dare…" Whispy seemed to be getting angry for a moment, but calmed down, sighing through the wind. "You are, of course, right. I protected my own bark and branches over my forest earlier today, and I owe everyone whom I swore to protect the deepest of apologies. Even as my fury grew at those who threatened the forest, I did nothing because I feared for my own safety." I stared at him, saying nothing.

"When you arrived, I let loose all of my fury at the greedy thief King and his men on a group of children. It is not, I admit, my finest moment, and I would like to offer my deepest apologies. I would also like to thank you for saving my life when it was threatened by your friend here." he turned to glare at Marx.

"Sorry." Marx muttered. "But you were being kind of a jerk too."

Whispy turned back to me. "I do not recommend you continue your friendship with this one. He is obviously troubled, and I can see nothing but pain and sorrow for his future and the future of those who come close to him."

Marx was _incensed._ He was about to let loose on Whispy, I could tell, but I spoke before he could.

"Thanks for the advice." I said coldly. "But Marx is my friend." Marx shut up immediately - he seemed surprised at my response.

"Then I wish you the best of luck." Whispy said with a somber tone.

I decided it was time for a subject change. "Coo still hasn't come back yet, by the way. He was headed to Castle Lololo, but-"

Whispy's eyes widened. "Castle Lololo? Why on Popstar would he go there?!"

"To take down Dedede!" Marx said, aggravated. "Wasn't that the entire _point?_ "

"Dedede does not live in Castle Lololo." Whispy stated. "It seems Coo's assumption will cost him greatly. Dedede's fortress lies atop a mountain across the sea. To get there, one must reach the edge of the Float Islands, cross the seas, and climb the fearsome Mount Dedede."

"...What?" I breathed.

"Indeed, Dedede's 'claim' to the land of dreams stretches further than even his ego can cover. If Coo wishes to take him down, it will be a long and perilous journey. That is what I would say if he had not already wandered, unguarded, into Castle Lololo."

"What do you mean?" Marx asked.

"It means, child, that he has already wandered into a trap. He may be captured as we speak."

* * *

Captain Doo didn't understand why he kept getting stuck with the hard gigs. First he had to go around _all_ of Dream Land leading an army to steal food from angry citizens. Next, he had to deal with the twins of Castle Lololo. (Rumor had it that, to top it all off, he'd be on laundry duty that night.)

"We're so glad you arrived." Lololo and Lalala, owners of the Castle Lololo, a massive structure which had a colorful, pastel appearance and a structure that almost appeared to be made out of toy blocks, said. The twins were children, from the sounds and looks of it, but they creeped Captain Doo out. And he was not easily scared - he had to listen to Dedede's rants day in and day out, for Nova's sake!

"Yeah, I'll give Kabula one thing. She's fast." Doo muttered. "You said you had something for the king?"

"Yes… a bird wanted to see him." the twins said, again in perfect synchronicity. "We had a nice chat with him, and he'll be ready to meet His Majesty." Captain Doo inwardly groaned. After dealing with Lololo and Lalala, most of their victims were too traumatized to even talk.

His fears were confirmed when Lololo unveiled a large, stiff, purple bird from a box he had been hiding. Had Captain Doo not known any better, he would have thought it to be a corpse. Its eyes were wide, unblinking, and perfectly frightened half to death.

"Yeah, I'll be sure to get that to him." Captain Doo said, hoping to finish the exchange as soon as possible.

"Thank you," the twins said, "but we are not yet done with you." Captain Doo started to break out in a cold sweat. What did they want with him?

"You will require a bag to transport the bird in." Upon the twins saying that, Lololo pulled out a large burlap sack, sticking the unconscious owl inside. Lololo tossed the burlap sack to Captain Doo, who caught it, a little fazed. "Have a nice journey."

Coming from anyone else, Captain Doo would have appreciated the gesture of wishing him well. But he really just wanted the conversation to end - and fortunately the twins seemed about as eager as he did to make that happen.. "Yes, well, goodbye." he said gruffly, dashing out to the balcony where he'd parked Kabula. He hoped to Nova he'd never have to deal with them again.

* * *

"I cannot thank you enough." Poppy Sr. said to Marx and me. "I wish there was something I can bestow to make up for the troubles you went through."

"I hear you can totally hook us up with some sweet bombs." Marx said with a mischievous smile, which was met with a glare from Poppy.

"As grateful as I am, I know just enough to not be callously handing bombs out to ten-year-old boys." Poppy stated, incensing Marx.

"I'm _twelve_ -"

"Marx. We're not going to need bombs." I told him. "It's going to be cut-and-dry. We're going to go into the giant pastel castle and find Coo, find out what's happening, and figure out how best to get him to Castle Dedede." He groaned.

Meanwhile, the Poppies Jr. were clambering around their father, who had pulled in a wheelbarrow on our request to load with all the apples Whispy had dropped. With Whispy's blessing, he was going to try to pass them to those living in the forest in the meantime, while we'd try to help Coo solve the Dedede problem.

"There is much good you have done, Adeleine." stated Whispy. "You reunited a kind man with his children. Even if he cannot repay his debt of gratitude to you, I would be happy to pay it for him."

"He doesn't owe me anything!" I argued. "And besides, you're already doing enough by making up for the apple thing - you just have to keep it up."

"Even so, this will help you on your journey." Whispy replied.

"I appreciate the offer, but it's not really much of a journey for _me_. We're just heading into the castle and seeing what's up so Coo can figure out what's going on."

"I certainly hope it is that cut-and-dry. Perhaps, then, Coo should take this when the time comes. Until then, however, I would like you to have this." Whispy's branches shook, and I cringed involuntarily. However, the only thing that dropped out was a single tiny glowing star.

"What is this?" I picked it up. It felt warm to the touch.

"Keep it. Keep the Sparkling Star." Whispy said cryptically. "When the time comes, you will know what to do."

"Alright." Marx said with a grin. "No more apple-hoarding, all right?"

"On my honor as a Guardian."

"So I guess we're leaving now, huh?" Marx asked me.

"Hold on." I told him. Without explanation, I ran over to Poppy, who was getting ready to leave with his kids. "Hey, there _is_ one favor you could do for me."

"Anything." Poppy promised. "Except for the bomb thing. That is one wish I will not grant."

I laughed. "It isn't that," I explained. "But if you run into the hamster Rick or the fish Kine, I want you to tell them not to worry. We're just leaving for a little while, we just need to find Coo, and then he'll head up to Castle Dedede and deal with the problem. We won't be in any danger."

Poppy nodded. "I will pass on your knowledge to the best of my ability."

 _At least I hope we won't be in any danger…_ I thought. _Earlier today, I didn't even realize that we'd even have to leave the forest. I thought Coo had this under control. If we can't find Coo…_

 _How much danger would we have to put ourselves in?_


	4. Chapter 3: On Friendship, or Something

" _Who dares enter my domain?"_

Meta Knight watched unfazed as a vicious lightning strike and thunderclap accompanied this show of drama. He glared, his eyes reduced to half-lidded slits. His body was mostly enshrouded in shadow, but an observer could easily make out his two glowing yellow eyes and a cape, flapping and fluttering in the wind, which was slowly gaining speed.

"Kracko, please. Behave yourself. We don't want to have a repeat performance of… last time."

He scanned the area, looking for signs of the beast's telltale eye, but all he could see were swirling thunderclouds surrounding the very top of the Cloud Palace, where he stood atop a tower open to the sky. Meta Knight was told this place used to be quite peaceful and solemn, with a great view of the night sky - but sadly, due to Kracko's questionable claim to this area, getting a good view wasn't possible.

The thunderclouds parted, revealing a glaring blue eye that stood out from the rest of the darkened sky. Kracko's voice rumbled again - it in itself sounded like thunder rolling across the ground, as though lighting was striking somewhere just because Kracko was speaking.

"Meta Knight. You dare return again? This is unacceptable… nay, inconceivable!" The clouds surrounding Kracko's eye started pulsating with lightning, as Kracko's eye trembled in what Meta Knight assumed to be either anger or fear. "You have quite the nerve to return to the Cloud Palace after last time."

"Ah, yes, I remember how terrifying last time was." Meta Knight said, with an overt touch of sarcasm. "Did your scars ever heal?"

Kracko's eye glinted with rage - he looked as though he was about to say something, but then thought better of it.

"Anyway, Kracko," Meta Knight continued, "I assume you have heard the news. Our dear friend, his royal "majesty" King Dedede, has made off with all of the food in Dream Land - another one of his… unfortunate whims."

"I try not to concern myself with the whims of mortals, such as our supposed "king" or yourself." Kracko said flippantly.

"You still fancy yourself a god?" Meta Knight said.

"If not a god of storms, what am I?" Kracko rumbled. "I command rain, wind and lightning to my whim! The very clouds in the sky are my physical form! I _am_ a deity of storms incarnate!"

"How pleasant for you." Meta Knight stated flatly. "At any rate, I am still the subject of a kingdom-wide manhunt. Even as high and as far from the castle as your palace is, I take a great risk in speaking to you; I would prefer it if you were more appreciative."

"How can I be appreciative," Kracko shot back, "when I know I'm to be the subject of another one of your requests for a 'little favor?' I am not one of your experiments, Meta Knight!"

Meta Knight's eyes flashed a bright green before returning to yellow. "Perhaps, then, you will accept this gift from me? It is not even a favor I ask; I am sure you will be more enticed to hear me out if I, as one would say, scratch your back." From under his shadowy cloak, he produced a brilliantly glowing five-pointed star; its glow easily allowed it to combat the grim darkness of the palace. "You are interested in artifacts, yes? Have you heard the tale of the three Sparkling Stars?"

"No," Kracko growled, "and I'm certain it's something you're making up in that little brain of yours so you can string me along."

Meta Knight gave a gasp of faux shock. "Please, Kracko. This is a complimentary gift." he assured. "I have a request, yes, but it is not something for you to swear on, only to consider. I will leave after I ask it; you can bet that on my honor as a knight."

"Our encounters have convinced me beyond argument that 'honor' is not in your dictionary, Meta Knight." Kracko asserted. "But nevertheless, speak. My patience is wearing thin, and I would prefer for this not to end in violence."

"The Starlight Hero is said to arrive; he is likely already here, if King Dedede's edict is anything to be considered. The Book of Telling states clearly that he will overthrow the edict of a tyrannical overlord. Dedede's purposeful starving of his own people is surely a telltale sign that this prophecy is, in fact, coming true." Kracko's eye narrowed, but Meta pressed on. "I understand your skepticism; however, certain events have convinced me of the prophecy's legitimacy; Its Jambandran origins mean nothing anymore.

"All I ask is that you act as an 'eye in the sky,' if you will. The hero is said to be round, pink, and harbor a penchant for food - yet another point in reality's favor. You recall what I stated Dedede's edict was, yes?"

"Get to the point." Kracko's patience was clearly hanging by a thread.

"Yes, well… if you see anyone like that, I certainly hope you will let me know. With a gift such as this Sparkling Star, I certainly hope you will be enticed to do so. You enjoy ancient artifacts, yes?"

Kracko's enormous eye rolled before a distinct sigh could be heard echoing through the harsh winds. A dense fog enveloped Meta Knight's hand for a few seconds; by the time it lifted, the Sparkling Star was gone. "I'll think about it." Kracko muttered.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you, Kracko." Meta Knight said. "I certainly hope nothing terrible befalls you."

"I can't say the same for you - on either of those counts." Kracko asserted, before pausing. "...What was the tale of those Spankling Stars that you were so eager to tell me?"

Meta Knight's gut instinct was to correct him, to say the word was 'Sparkling' - but in a situation like this, the less that Kracko knew, the better. "It matters not. It is a very long story, and your patience is wearing thin - and besides, given your fragile ego, I would not advise you hear it. It does, after all, contain some unsuitably dark matters." He said wryly, his eyes briefly flashing green again. "You had better return to doing… cloud things, I suppose. I will return to my crew; I imagine they are worried."

"Imagine that." Kracko rumbled. Without so much as a goodbye, his eye faded into the vast cloudy sea that surrounded the palace.

His eyes glowing green, Meta Knight threw off his cape, spreading his massive wingspan. His form was engulfed in shadow, but even the casual observer would note the resemblance in his sharp, jagged wings to those of a bat.

With no further words, Meta Knight extended his wings and flew off, leaving behind the cloud palace, a decidedly annoyed Kracko, and a very important artifact.

The trap was set.

* * *

 **Stage 2**

 **Castle Lololo**

"Well, here goes nothing." I grinned to Marx, trying to lighten the mood. The walk up had taken a couple of hours' time, but we were finally at the castle. The sun was setting over the ocean in the distance, the massive castle walls in front of us gave the impression of toy blocks, with all sorts of pastel colors; it was a very innocuous scene. Regardless, he was biting his lip and fidgeting.

"You can say _that_ again." He gave me a weak grin back, but everything about his expression said "oh my god what have I gotten myself into." I couldn't help but frown.

"Look, Marx, I know we're not in any danger, but you don't _have_ to come with me. All we need to do is find Coo somewhere in this castle; that shouldn't be hard, his pallette will clash with all the bright colors…" I faded out, looking at him nervously. He sighed in response.

"Adeleine, we're friends." Marx said. "If I left you behind, I'd never forgive myself."

So he _did_ have a moral compass. I mentally berated myself for doubting that - though was it just me, or did it just extend to worrying about me?

"I appreciate that, Marx." I said, and I meant it. "But Coo might be in danger, and he's the only hope of returning our food safely."

"You keep saying that we won't be in any danger, now you're saying that Coo might be in danger!" Marx sputtered. "Which is it?"

"Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating, maybe I'm being irrational." I told him. "But I'm more than a little worried. People are _starving_ , Marx. I believe Coo when he says he can handle this, but I feel justified in checking up on him. Most likely, Whispy Woods was being a drama queen, and Coo's well on his way to the _actual_ Castle Dedede!"

Marx chuckled. "Wouldn't be out of character for that dumb ol' tree."

"If that _is_ the case," I said, "we can just ask the owners of the castle if he's been by. When they tell us that he flew off to Dedede's castle, we can head back to the forest and wait for him. Deal?" I was about to extend a hand, but stopped myself. I really had to get used to Marx's lack thereof.

"You got it." He grinned. "I'd be kind of conflicted if Coo _was_ captured. On one hand, I'd love to leave that jerk hanging-"

" _Marx_ -"

"On the other hand, I want to see the look on his face when we burst through the door and announce that we're here to rescue him and beat those jerks up. Big damn hero moment, you know? He'd _never_ live that down."

"Is this a hypothetical world where we can actually, like, fight things?" I pointed out, hoping to bring him down to reality. I was glad he was finally thinking confident, but there's a difference between that and _delusion_.

"You're no fun." he said with a pout.

"I try." I walked over to the gigantic, and garishly baby-blue, dual doors. Two massive iron knockers, painted pastel pink and shaped liked curved triangles, hung loosely from them.

"There's nothing to worry about, Marx." I told him. "Just remember; we aren't here to fight. We go in, find out about Coo, and go out."

"If we'd just gotten bombs from Poppy-"

" _No, Marx._ There won't be fighting." Without any further word, I grabbed one of the knockers and slammed it against the metal door, causing a harsh vibration to sound. The door shook.

I pulled my hands off of my ears - they'd instinctively gone to cover them when the sound had rung out. "Well, they'd better have heard _that_." I quipped. "I bet they went deaf after, though."

"Have you ever considered that 'deaf' and 'death' sound extremely similar?" Marx remarked.

"You're so _morbid_." I observed. "There's nothing to worry about, as long as we don't antagonize anyone."

Our conversation, however, was cut short when the door started slowly creaking open. I found myself holding my breath as a view of the dark castle within was slowly drawn into my vision behind the doors, but not… well, whoever was opening the door.

The indoors of the castle were in sharp juxtaposition to the almost uncanny cheery aesthetics of the blocky outside. The walls looked like they had once been painted the pastel pinks and blues of the outer walls, but it was now so chipped and faded it was hard to tell. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and the occasional bug crawled across the floors and walls. The entire main hall seemed to be covered in a fine layer of dust.

The main hall itself was impressive; or, more accurately, it looked like it would have been impressive once upon a time. Two massive curving staircases went up to a second floor and a long hallway that led into darkness, while between the staircases was a hallway that did the same. The railings looked like they were made of gold, but they didn't sparkle - there was _way_ too much dust covering them.

"Depressing." I muttered. Marx grunted.

From behind the door, a little creature waddled towards us. It was a little yellow thing, with no visible face, a black witch's hat, and two little hands and feet. In said hands, it held a broom. When it spoke (despite its apparent lack of mouth) it had an overtly feminine voice.

"Oh, greetings, sir and madam. Welcome to the esteemed Castle Lololo."

"Esteemed, huh?" Marx said with a smirk, surveying the crumbling interior of the castle. "This place doesn't look like it gets much upkeep."

"Oh, yes, I try to keep the dust from piling up and the paint from chipping. But I am just one person, and the Master and Mistress don't enjoy pitching in." she recoiled once she realized what she'd just said. "Don't tell them I said that! Oh, heavens…"

"We won't." I reassured her. "What's your name?"

"Yes, yes, I had a name once… but it's been so long that I'm afraid I can't remember. You can call me Broom Hatter, that's what the Master and Mistress call me." she said. "They'll want to see you; they're interested in meeting any new guests who come by."

"Whoa, whoa, hold on, buddy!" Marx exclaimed. "We're not 'guests,' we're looking for our friend!"

Broom Hatter shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry, sir; I'm afraid I don't remember anybody coming by recently. But if they did, the Master and Mistress would know."

"Master and Mistress?" I asked.

"Yes, the Master Lololo and Mistress Lalala, the owners of Castle Lololo," Broom Hatter explained. Marx snorted.

I turned to Marx. "What's the harm? We might as well meet them."

"I don't know, Addy." Marx said. I was about to remark on the shortening of my name, but he continued, "Didn't Whispy mention something about a 'trap?'"

"You yourself admitted that Whispy was _kind of_ a drama queen," I told Marx. "Yeah, this place could use a larger staff, but it's not like that makes the owners bad people." I started in behind Broom Hatter.

"All right." Marx said, following. "But if things go bad, I _will_ attack them."

"You'd lose." I remarked.

"There won't be any need for that." Two childish voices remarked in perfect unison. I turned to see two little, round figures standing behind Broom Hatter. "Fighting will not be necessary. Broom Hatter, you're dismissed; return to your duties."

They both had massive eyes with tiny pupils, accompanied by hands and feet; a shape I'd started to get used to in this weird place. One was blue, while the other was pink; the latter wore a yellow bow on her head. I assumed the former was Lololo and the latter was Lalala.

"Yes, Master. Yes, Mistress." Broom Hatter said, before vanishing in a puff of smoke. I glanced at Marx; he was as confused as I was.

"Now then, where were we?" Lololo asked Lalala. She responded, "The guests must at least receive a special meal. I am certain they must be hungry."

My stomach agreed; it had been some time since my last apple feast.

"Actually, we just wanted to ask if you'd seen our friend Coo. He's a bird, he's got purple feathers, always kind of angry…" I said hopefully. "Has he dropped by?"

"Oh, yes. He dropped by for a short visit." Lalala said. Lololo then said, "We had a nice chat and he headed off to Castle Dedede."

"That's good." I decided. "I guess we'd better be getting home now." I glanced at Marx.

"Oh, no!" Lalala said. "The food has not yet returned; you must be very tired and hungry."

"I insist the two of you enjoy a meal before we go." Lololo said. "There's no telling how long it will be before the King reverses his order and food is returned to all."

The offer was tempting, but before I could say anything, Marx gave me a look.

"This might be the 'trap' Whispy talked about." Marx whispered frantically. "We've got to get out of here."

"If that's the case, then Coo's probably still here." I whispered back, glancing at our admittedly creepy hosts. "We either can safely accept the offer or we need to get in anyway."

Marx sighed. "Your logic hurts my brain."

"Come on. I'm starving and I know you are too." I told him. "Let's make the best of this."

"All right." he admitted. "I _am_ pretty hungry."

"Come then." the two hosts said in unison. "Follow us to the dining room." The two, without any further words, began down the hallway below the dual staircases. Tentatively, Marx and I followed.

Coming to the end of the hall, Lololo and Lalala pushed open two large dual doors that led into a cheery-looking dining hall. This place seemed to get priority in the upkeep - its pastel wallpaper and blinding, clashing colors were fully on display.

We sat down next to a garishly colored dining table where plates, cutlery and glasses of orange juice were neatly laid out. On the other end of the room, facing the dual doors we'd just entered, was a small wooden door that probably led to a kitchen of some sort, judging from the delicious smell that emanated from it. My stomach growled - but Marx had other concerns.

"Who _decorated_ this place?" Marx asked, bemused. Lololo and Lalala tittered.

"Bring out the food." the twins said to empty air. Marx and I looked at each other for a moment in confusion.

Then, bursting through the small wooden doors, in a feat that should be impossible, were dozens of screeching, ear-splitting red ghosts, carrying (using long, pink tongues) trays of delicious-looking foods of all kinds. They laughed and howled, filling the room with a ruckus of laughter.

...They were kind of cute, actually. Unfortunately, Marx didn't seem to agree.

" _Adeleine what are those please get them away from me_ " Marx said, his teeth chattering. He glanced over at me furtively.

I couldn't help but laugh a little. "Marx, c'mon. They're not _that_ scary."

"You are afraid of ghosts? Interesting." Lalala said, her eyes narrowed. However, I couldn't process this; Lololo was also speaking, and he was drowning out his sister.

"Indeed, there is nothing to be afraid of; the Boolers are here to bring you food. If that is scary for you, we would love to see your reaction to the entertainment."

"Wait, Booler? I get it! It's like 'boo' and 'butler'-"

" _Adeleine this is not the time for puns"_ I glanced over at Marx. He was still shaking, even as a Booler lowered its tongue to place a tray of the most delicious-looking meat I'd ever seen in front of him.

Actually, I was a little concerned. "Did you say 'entertainment?'"

"Yes, yes. We take pride in our ability to dazzle our guests with the darkest horrors of Castle Lololo."

Lalala chimed in, "In turn, your look of terror provides _us_ some entertainment. Life in a haunted castle gets dull, you know."

"Well, my friend Marx gets scared easily." I said, looking over at him. I hadn't known him for a while, but clearly it was true. "If you insist on the entertainment, we're really going to have to go."

"Oh, no, you can't leave." the twins said in unison with some sort of barely concealed malicious glee. "Think of all the fun we could have."

" _Adeleine I don't like this"_

I looked over at Marx, and then back at the twins. Their innocent, wide eyes were starting to look a _lot_ more menacing. Not to mention, the food on the plates had, oddly enough, vanished while we were looking at the twins; and was it my imagination, or was the lighting in the room beginning to dim? I had to think of something fast.

"What if… you guys wanted to be entertained by seeing us frightened, right?" I asked them. They looked at each other for a second. "What if we entertained you instead?"

Marx stopped shivering and looked over at me with this look of wide-eyed admiration; however, he turned to the twins with visible beads of sweat on his forehead. "Yeah! Adeleine can paint - she's the _best_ \- and I can juggle stuff! Like, uh… kitchen knives!"

"Oh, just like the circus!" Lololo said. "Don't you remember, Lalala? How long ago that was?"

"Yes, Lololo, I do!" Lalala squealed. "We would get our faces painted, and we would see the jugglers, and-"

"Hold on, how long ago _was_ this?" I had to ask. They looked, talked and acted like little kids, after all.

Lololo looked at me with a half-lidded glare. "Questions are _boring_."

"And we wouldn't want that!" Marx chimed in nervously. "You'll see, it'll be just like the circus! You won't have to scare us for entertainment!"

"I don't know, it might not be nearly exciting enough." Lalala remarked. "Perhaps we should add some excitement."

 **The Terrible Two**

 **Lololo and Lalala**

Lololo giggled with malice. "I know just the thing, Lalala." He snapped a finger, and dozens of bats flew into the dining hall. (The lights were _definitely_ dimmer, I wasn't just imagining it!) They started roosting everywhere - under the tables, on the chairs, and under the chandelier. One landed on Marx, and he let out a high-pitched scream. The annoyed bat flew away to perch elsewhere in the room.

Lololo and Lalala both burst out into giggles at Marx's scream. "Let us see your juggling, funny man." Lololo said. Marx, in response, just let out a gurgle as he looked at all the bats in the room - flapping around, roosting, _excreting_ …

Okay, I wasn't scared, but I was a little grossed out.

"Marx is scared to death! Don't you want to see some paintings instead?" I asked desperately.

"Paintings are boring." Lalala remarked. "And _you're_ boring, stupid girl. You're not scared like the funny man is."

"You can leave if you want." Lololo said passively, addressing me. "You're no fun." I glanced at Marx; he didn't say anything, but his expression said it all.

"Hold on." I realized. "Is this what you guys did to Coo? Is he okay?"

Lalala giggled. "He was scared stiff when we delivered him to the King's lieutenant. He'd be in the clutches of the King by now."

Marx - who seemed to temporarily forget how afraid he was of the bats flying everywhere - and I shared a wide-eyed look of shock. "You guys are working with the king?" I ventured.

Lololo shrugged. "Your bird friend was shouting threats of bodily harm against Dedede when we told him this wasn't where the King lived; it seemed fair that Dedede know exactly who wants him dead."

"That's not fair at all!" I protested. "Dedede's starving everyone in Dream Land; Coo's got a right to be upset!"

"Ah," Lalala said. "But your friend is trapped in our castle, facing his worst nightmares. And it seems the two of you have a grudge against Dedede as well, but you are in our clutches. Does it really matter what your definition of 'fair' is?"

These two were really starting to creep me out. On one hand, they sounded and acted like little kids; but on the other hand they were _way_ too articulate for any little kid I've met. And their logic, terrifying as it was, held water. We'd either have to play their game, or…

"You guys said I could leave, right?" This was a bad idea. Everything about this "plan" was a bad idea. It was the only idea I had.

" _Adeleine what the Nature's Navel don't just leave me here"_ Marx screamed. The bats surrounding him and landing on him were now accompanied by these sentient walking pumpkins. They weren't doing any _harm_ , but they were walking around and letting out this really creepy laugh that just made Marx cringe more.

"Sure," Lalala said, sounding exceedingly bored with my presence. "You aren't getting scared like the funny man is." She punctuated this with a glare, as though she _still_ expected him to start juggling cutlery.

Ignoring Lalala, I tried to shoot a look at Marx that said, "trust me, it's going to be okay." Of course, though, knowing my luck, it probably looked to him like "well, at least ONE of us is gonna get out alive."

I dashed out of the room into the hallway beyond with an "I'm really sorry, Marx!" hoping the twins wouldn't follow. I'd got us into this mess, and now I'd have to get Marx out of it.

You know, I'd be lying to you if I said the thought of leaving Marx behind didn't briefly flash through my mind. This was an incredibly risky plan, and I was sort of playing it by ear. I just had to trust that Marx would be amusing enough to those terrible twins that I could stop what they were doing to the poor guy.

I noted that the only area of the manor that I hadn't already seen was the upstairs hallway (and the kitchen, but that wasn't exactly an option at the moment). Hedging my bets, I decided to dash up the curving staircase. The hallway, oddly, led only to a single room at the end; it looked like there used to be a bunch of doors along the hallway, but they'd all been painted over.

 _I guess they don't want to allow their guests to have places to hide,_ I thought wryly. _Or, for that matter, conduct top-secret plans to save their friend from creepy horror movie twins._ Unfortunately, the end of the hallway seemed to corroborate this. While the room at the end seemed to never have a wall or door to paint over, it didn't contain much - just a few large, green boxes (that looked like they were made out of gemstone - weird!) and a _lot_ of cobwebs and spiders. Ergh.

Fortunately, the room was large enough for what I was going for - and, heck, maybe the boxes would help too! I grabbed one of them, trying to lift it. I didn't know what it was made of, but it was _way_ too heavy to lift; the most I could do was drag it. Perfect.

I pulled out several long rolls of paper from my bag, which I fortunately hadn't managed to lose anywhere despite its precarious position around my shoulder. I spread the paper out evenly in rows along the floor, forming a large square grid. A makeshift mural canvas.

Well, not a "mural." More like a "grotesquely large portrait shot."

I'd painted what I was about to paint before. Remember the world I used to paint, when it was my only comfort in life? It would have villains, too. Every world did. But this villain was easily the most notorious out of any my twisted imagination had created. It'd sprung out of a nightmare I'd had about a terrifying monster who took over my mother's corpse, turning it into a puppet that tried to kill me.

Yeah, I'm screwed up.

I immediately got to work painting that exact monster, making sure to use the large canvas space to emphasize every terrifying detail. It was mostly black, wearing a cloak and visor over a mostly shapeless body. Under its visor was a glaring white eye. Three "spikes" protruded from its head in a wavy, almost liquid, form. Under its cloak, where a normal human being's belly button should've been, was another, larger, eye, this one red.

To top it all off, it wielded a massive blade - and I made sure to paint it as large as possible - making it look ready to strike.

It took a little while, during which I was praying that Lololo and Lalala hadn't gotten bored of Marx and decided to do more than scare him. Granted, I would've found Marx's reactions hilarious if we weren't friends, so for his sake I hoped he could keep that up.

I quickly admired my work after I was finished. It wasn't as scary as it was in my nightmares, but it was a _giant monster of darkness._ I didn't have time to _really_ make it good, but I decided that it was the best I could do within the time frame. Painstakingly, I grabbed each of the drying rolls of paper and draped them across the railing so their ends stuck. I did this all in a row, hoping to God I was not actually screwing it up, so that the portrait I'd created faced the kitchen doorway. Tiptoeing through the tapestry, I surveyed my work - the mansion was dim enough that this crazy plan might actually work!

I heard Marx's indistinct screams from behind the double doors. _Hold on just a little bit longer, Marx,_ I mentally told him. Needless to say, he didn't reply.

Now for the second part of my plan. I dashed back upstairs to where the boxes were. Painstakingly, I grabbed one of them, and shoved it across the floor. It made a horribly loud squeaking noise, causing me to stop - had I been caught?

Nobody moved to investigate. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I continued pushing the box towards the stairs, making my arm muscles beg for sweet freedom. I ignored them. Some things had to be done.

With what little energy my arm muscles had left, I positioned the box as precariously as possible over one of the staircases and let go. Slowly, it began to tumble down the stairs - _THUMP, THUMP, THUMP_ \- with a noise so loud it could wake the dead. Had I not been the one who thought up the whole crazy scheme in the first place, I'd have thought a monster was coming to get me.

Now all I had to do was wait.

* * *

That _stupid_ Adeleine! Just when he'd actually begun to like and trust someone, she runs the heck out of his life - when he's in _a heck of a lot of danger, no less_ \- to save her own skin!

He'd tried to placate the twins with juggling, but every time he tried, they'd always summon some new ghost or spook to distract him, causing him to emit a girlish scream and forcing him to pick up the pieces and start over. They clearly weren't letting him go that easily.

Marx really couldn't describe why he was so afraid of all the horrifying spectres that the creepy twins were showing him. It was probably some freakish psychological thing. Maybe Rick could explain it - if Marx ever got out of this situation alive, that is.

He picked up the knives again and tried to juggle; but, of course, this attempt ended in failure too. It's hard to juggle with your _feet_ when you're constantly bombarded by everything that scares and terrifies you and you just _want it to go away and your new friend who you just wanted to be able to trust abandons you and-_

 _BOOM. THUMP. BOOM. THUMP._

This stopped Lololo, Lalala, and, oddly, their conjured spooks, in their tracks. Marx, who had shut his eyes, thinking this was another one of their tricks, tentatively opened them, seeing Lololo and Lalala just as confused as he was.

"What was that?" Lololo and Lalala said in unison. "That was not _our_ monster." The idea of a "monster" didn't help Marx's tension. Trying not to think about the frozen spectres, he began to try to figure out his chances of escape while the two twins were distracted.

With an odd note of hesitation, Lololo and Lalala pulled open the large double doors leading to the hallway beyond - only to see a horrifying sight.

* * *

"I am the great Dark Swordsman!" I was trying to make my voice as "spooky" as possible. I've never exactly been an actress; the closest I could get was projecting my voice while making it sound really low and wavy. "You must leave this place. Creepy twins are not welcome here. Prepare to meet my blade!"

I fell silent, hoping the darkness and the creepy atmosphere of the manor was enough to sell my awful plan.

Amazingly enough, two screams, in unison as Lololo's and Lalala's dialogue often was, told me that it had.

"A monster!" the two screamed, and I heard feet _pitter-pattering_ in the other direction, dashing back into the dining room - _past_ the dining room into the kitchen.

* * *

For a second, Marx was glad that Lololo and Lalala had run away, cornering themselves into the kitchen. But judging from what the twins were screaming, and how afraid they seemed, he immediately realized that they'd probably been made privy to a much bigger threat.

When the door opened, however, what he saw on the other side made him scream - not in fear, but in rage.

" _How could you?_ "

* * *

"Whoa, what?" I asked. I wasn't prepared for that. I mean, I really should have been, but I wasn't.

"You ran away!" Marx shouted. "You left me to be tortured by those creepy _freaks_!"

"I was trying to make that fake monster to scare them off!" I told him. "I never thought that-"

"Fake monster?" Marx asked. He tiptoed past me, shooting me a glare as he did so, and then caught sight of my tapestry - even in his anger, he was visibly impressed with my work. "...Okay, I think I see why those creepy twins ran away now."

"Look, Marx, I'm sorry-"

"You should be! You told me how easy this would be, acted like I was being ridiculous for being nervous about going into _a haunted house_ , and then you left me in a room with my greatest fears! It doesn't matter that you pulled off a ridiculous gambit - you did it _with no risk to yourself_. That doesn't make you a hero!"

...He was right. Darn it, he was such a jerk sometimes; why did he always end up being right?

"I wanted to trust you, Adeleine. I'd hoped we could be friends." he muttered.

"Marx, I'm really, really, sorry." I told him, this time honestly; he'd caught me off guard the first time. "I wish I could go back and do things differently. If I had the chance to do that, we never would've come here."

Marx grunted and turned away from me. "We'd better go make sure those freaks are out of commission."

"Looks like they are." I remarked with a cursory glance around the room. "All of those ghosts and monsters are gone."

"Does that mean none of them were real in the first place?" Marx questioned. I shrugged; I didn't have an answer for him.

"Indeed it does," a familiar voice confirmed. We both turned to see Broom Hatter, without a broom in hand, dancing on the balls of her feet. "and I thank you greatly. Those two horrible children have kept me in their service with their illusions; preventing me from leaving. But you have scared those two so, I suspect they will not have control of their illusions for a few hours. Which makes this a high time for us to leave, yes?"

"Two _little kids_ have this much power?" Marx said. "Geez, now I'm jealous!"

Broom Hatter sighed. "Believe me, you should not be. I was a nanny for these two children after their parents died, and they were certainly a handful. Spoiled rotten by their parents, they were. I tried to dote on them and give as much love as I could give while still raising them to be good people, but unfortunately I could not give enough. One day they were playing in the beach beside the house. A horrific undertow grabbed the twins, pulling them under and causing them to drown."

"Wait, but how does that-" I started. Broom Hatter waved a hand.

"Let me finish, dear child. I was in the kitchen preparing a meal; by the time I heard their screams and rushed down to the beach, it was already too late. The two were dead, and I would later find out that their spirits were cursed to haunt this mansion forevermore."

Marx and I glanced at each other. I'm pretty sure my expression mirrored the look of shock that was on his face.

Broom Hatter continued, "I am not sure if it was _their_ curse or mine. I since have taken it as punishment for my negligence, regardless. When the two children, now spirits, discovered their illusory abilities, they used my greatest fears to ensure I would stay and continue to serve them."

"That's cold." Marx muttered. "And they kept luring people in here for their own sick enjoyment?"

"Yes," Broom Hatter said sadly. "They have never aged, never matured, but I had no control over their behavior. I couldn't - they were the ones who controlled _my_ fears."

"So are they gone now?" I asked. "This is usually how this sort of thing goes."

Broom Hatter shook her… head? I think? "Unfortunately not. Your scheme worked as well as it could have; as powerful as they are with their illusory capabilities, they are still children. When faced with a primitive - yet impressively realistic, I must say -" ("thank you," I said, as she paused) "- illusion of sorts, they were both afraid of the convincing show you put on, and, perhaps on a deeper level, upset about the fact that _they_ were not in control of it."

"But we can't just keep letting them do this!" I told her.

"Dear girl, one must pick one's battles wisely. Right now, what we _can_ do is get ourselves out of here. Those terrible twins are cursed to remain in this mansion forevermore; they will not harm anyone who does not willingly step inside an obviously haunted castle." Broom Hatter concluded.

" _Hint hint, Adeleine._ " Marx said with an unsurprising - and probably deserved, honestly - amount of venom.

"Marx… I don't know how many times I can say it, but it won't make it more true. I'm sorry for putting you through that, and there are so many things I would have done differently." I took a deep breath. "We're friends, and friends are supposed to trust one another; but more than that, they're supposed to make sure _they_ can be trusted. What I did to you was awful."

Marx said nothing.

I kneeled down and hugged him; it felt like the right thing to do. "I really hope we can keep being friends, Marx. You, Rick, and a lot of the people we've met have shown me something I've never been privy to before, and I want to repay that by being a good friend." I looked him in the eye. "I hope you'll give me that chance."

I then looked at Marx more closely; he was beet red. "Yeah, yeah, you're forgiven." he muttered. "You can stop hugging me now."

"Alright. Marx, I have no right to ask you to join me in going to rescue Coo and all the food from King Dedede; but I want you to know that when we cross paths again-"

"Wait, what?" both Marx and Broom Hatter said at the same time.

"I'm coming with you, even if you-"

"King Dedede's castle is across the ocean and up a mountain, you'll never-"

"-I don't want to see you get hurt-"

"-children such as you two shouldn't be-"

"-what if we never see each other again?"

"-it's far too dangerous to go!"

"Whoa, whoa, guys, slow down!" I told them, laughing, before turning to Marx. "You mean you _want_ to come, after what happened?"

"I've screwed up too, Adeleine. You didn't ditch _me_ for that. Sure, I'm a little nervous," his intense expression turned to a playful grin, "but I'm more nervous about what'll happen to you if I'm not around."

"Yeah, you'll protect me with that beach ball of yours, huh?" I grinned back.

"Now hold on here!" Broom Hatter exclaimed. "Just how do you plan on crossing the ocean? It's far too far to swim!"

"I hadn't really thought about that," I admitted. "Could you show me the beach, so we can plan our route?"

Broom Hatter sighed, resigned, before taking notice of something on the floor. "Over there, is that something you dropped?" I turned to the staircase; apparently the emerald box actually had an opening, and a small object had spilled out. I reached into my pocket, looking at the 'Sparkling Star' Whispy had given me - this was another one just like it!

"Yeah." I told her, silently cursing myself for lying to an old lady; but if Whispy was to be believed, those things were important. I dashed over, putting it into my pocket next to the other one. Marx peered at me curiously.

"Now, sir and madam, please follow me. There's a back door through the kitchen; it leads to the beach." Broom Hatter ordered. We obliged, following her into the kitchen. Lololo and Lalala were huddling in a corner, hand-in-hand, still looking adorably afraid. I would have comforted them, but _god_ I was still fuming at them.

"Is the monster still…" Lololo's voice quavered.

"Out there?" Lalala finished for her brother. Marx and I looked at each other, grinning.

"Yeah." Marx said. "You'd better not do anything to attract its attention."

"Broom Hatter, make the monster go away!" Lalala ordered. Broom Hatter looked at the two with her hands on her… hips, I guess? Hard to tell with these guys.

"Masters, I'm afraid I can't. It's a very ravenous monster that eats bad little ghosties." she warned. "You two had better be careful."

With no further words, she departed through the kitchen's back door. We sheepishly followed, not giving the twins the honor of an over-the-shoulder glance.

We stepped out onto a beach, sparkling with sand that reflected the stars. It was still night, but we could see the sun peeking out over the horizon, waiting to rise.

"As you can see, madam and sir, beyond the Float Islands there is an uncrossable stretch of ocean. There is no possible way that you will-" she paused. "What is _that?_ "

Marx and I looked out onto the ocean - a beautiful chain of islands rested beyond the beach, filled with lush greenery and beautiful fauna. However, at the end of the chain sat a massive, wooden ship, with massive sails and a flag flying atop it. I wasn't sure what it depicted - it looked like the sun, with eight white spikes protruding from a black center and background - but, hey, did it really matter?

"Looks like we have ourselves a ride." Marx said, grinning at me.

I grinned back. "Tentatively."

* * *

"You fat tub of lard, you'd better let me out of this cage _right_ _now_ , or we're going to have problems!" Coo screeched as he struggled. The parakeet cage that Dedede had stuck him in was a tight squeeze and rather uncomfortable - not to mention that it added insult to injury! How _dare_ he?

"Now, don't you go insinuatin' me, Polly." Dedede remarked. His throne had been covered in a pile of food so massive that he was lounging on it. He bit into a chicken leg, continuing, "If you don't wanna be part 'a the dinner, you'd better be actin' more revenant!"

"You mean 'reverent.'" Coo snarked.

"I'm the king 'round here, bird brain!" Dedede shouted. "The word is whatever the heck I says it is! Now shut up before I cook your goose!"

Coo valued his life. As much as he hated the king, he knew that shutting up was probably the best course of action; he just needed to bide his time and figure out a plan.

"Your Majesty!" Bandana Waddle Dee ran in, looking at his tyrant nervously. "The Waddle Dees are becoming restless… You took all of _our_ food, too! Now, I am _completely_ loyal to you, I swear, but people are talking about rebellion!"

"Serves you morons right." Coo spat.

"Rebellion? I've been a good king to all 'a them Waddle Dees!" Dedede shouted. "There's gotta be a way to get 'em back on my side."

"Well, King, I recommend you return at least some food to those working in your castle-" Bandana Dee started, before a hearty smack from Dedede. "Ouch!"

Dedede's mind returned to Meta Knight's words - about the pink "hero" that was supposed to arrive, and who would try to fight him. Fight _him_? Ha!

"I have the perfect idea." Dedede announced with a grin. Lifting himself out of his throne despite his weight, he marched out of the room, presumably to tell Captain Doo exactly what this idea of his was. Bandana Waddle Dee and Coo looked on in bemusement.

"Soooo… how about unlocking this cage?"


End file.
